Atonement
by Seniya
Summary: Twenty seven one shots based on the couple of Will and Caleb. They range from fluff to angst to humor. All for your amusement. Enjoy. WillxCaleb
1. Realization

**Atonement**

**By Seniya**

Realization

_A thousand angels dance around you  
I am complete now that I've found you_

_**Savage Garden: I Knew I Loved You**_

…………………………………………………………

Had he expected an epiphany…a moment of blessed intermission within the play of time itself? When the four winds would still, the heavens would sing and even the earth would halt on its axis…Had he really?

Maybe.

Yes actually, Caleb admitted to himself, he had. He had at the very least decided that at this moment of…romantic realization there would have been something…anything more poignant occurring in his universe than the dull sound of traffic in his ears and the piecing sensation of the broiling afternoon sun against his neck.

But there wasn't…for somehow the Gods had decided that remarkable as his epiphany was, it alone wasn't worthy of the apocalypse, and thus he was left standing foolishly in the middle of the sidewalk with a stupid, albeit happy grin plastered on his face.

_Love_ does that to you after all.

_Ah love_, it was so simple that _now_ it seemed to him that he had been incredibly foolish over the past few weeks. Foolish in his denial (because he hadn't believed that he could feel this way, not about her), foolish with his pride (because this was unrequited…and he couldn't bear to hear the _no_ that would inevitably fall from her lips) and foolish because he'd lived too long in fear of these feelings…when truly, they were astonishing. Just a taste of euphoria, merely a sensation of tenderness deep inside of his chest, one that he knew should feel painful, but left him longing…begging for more.

Just like_ her_ in some ways…

And then there was the ignorance; the uncertainty that was slowly creeping up from behind him, lurking in the shadows, readying itself to pounce.

For he wasn't sure about anything anymore: he didn't, for example know exactly _when_ the line between comrade and…infatuation had been crossed. He was sure _what_ he would do next…stare at her for the rest of his days? Pretend that it didn't disturb him tremendously when she stood too close to him…when the aroma of her shampoo infiltrated his defenses…

Took over his mind and forced him to imagine the most un-companionable things.

…and he was also completely unaware of _how_ to react to this: _how_ she would…should he ever become idiotic enough to inform her of his not so complicated emotions. Because the lightheadedness that he was feeling now was bad enough, and he had only admitted this to himself a few minutes ago… it frightened him to think about how it might intensify.

Strange, thought he, how he had faced so many enemies in his short lifetime…men who would think little of wounding him…and far less about decapitating him…yet the greatest chink in his armor had come from her. From the way that she could look up at his face with nothing but naked concern in her cinnamon eyes…the way that she would bite her lips when she was upset…being far too nice to ever let on what she was actually thinking…the way that she would smile at him sometimes, her subtle method of reassurance.

It had all worked to intoxicate him…although he was fairly certain that it hadn't been her original intention. Now he was drunk on this frivolous feeling, standing stock still in the middle of the crowded sidewalk watching her as she walked away, her scarlet hair tumbling past her shoulders to dance along her back.

The smile grew wider and he wondered…momentarily if he should try to hide it, to behave, in the minds of those around him, in a more suitable…rather…sane manner—but the thought faded almost as quickly as it had come. No, he was in love (he deserved at least a few moments of madness)…head over heels, ass backwards, bolts from the blue…in love with _her_.

It had taken him far too long to _realize_ it, much too long to decide that he would admit it… and now he found that he didn't care if the woman who was peering at him awkwardly from the house next door knew it. _His_ world had stopped turning, _his_ heaven was screaming and _his_ breath had been stolen by the winds themselves.

Because he loved her.

…………………………………………………………

**Author: **I'm writing drabbles. Yes, it has come to this. They don't take me long; this one took about two hours. Well anyways the deal with these is that okay, there is an overall plot, which is pitifully simple just about the issues of any relationship: we'll have a beginning, middle and an end. You know a get together, a few arguments, a first kiss, maybe a first other things (depends on how people tell me that this season ends hiss). I'm working with some prompts and these chapters may not all be connected in the right way or in an actual order but whatever, its fluff so you guys won't complain. They're also to prove the point: **we are not dead!** Just…stunned…shocked…paralyzed…traumatized. Ek.

I'd just like to clear my name; I haven't stopped watching the show because of Cornelia or Cornelia and Caleb's love fest. The dialogue in the show feels forced and un-natural, the storyline is unconvincing, the characterization is ridiculous and as a result Seniya no longer gives a damn about what happens; hence she doesn't feel the need to add to the energy crisis by wasting precious electricity watching 30 minutes of bilge water. There you go, I'm not petty, I just have a lot of things to do, and 30 minutes is a really long time. Sorry. So unless Phobos and Cedric turn up naked (baby oil in tow), Prince Zuko makes a cameo or Ernest Hemingway rises from the grave to write a season three, consider Seniya completely (and gladly) oblivious.

And yes, that is Savage Garden up there, I disgusted even myself with that one…but it fit. So I'll forgive myself.

**Disclaimer:** I disclaim.


	2. Life

**Atonement**

**By Seniya**

Life

_Right then my story ended and a new one had begun  
'cause I had some vision in my sight on the journey to be one_

_Swing Low, Sweet Cheerio by Alice Cooper_

Surprises are arguably moments of absolute surrealism—no, that's _realism_, I'm wrong. Because nothing confirms that you're a living, breathing, feeling entity more than a good surprise. Don't laugh, it's true, and I'm not talking about the momentary jolt that you get when you find out that your friends planned you a birthday party after all (even after the copious number of hints that you've been dropping)…or the sudden rush of exhilaration that you feel at being given a very small…rather a very _expensive_ trinket by a loved one (even if they weren't loved before).

No, I'm referring to the surprises that _life_ throws at you, always expecting you to catch the ball and toss it back. Sometimes you fail (you're human after all, and your underhand isn't what it used to be); and sometimes the ball just sort of grazes your fingers before it slips out of reach…and you blame it on the distress, the absolute inexpressible sensation of having the rug jerked right out from under you. You claim that even after all of these years that you still aren't used to the fickle nature of the world, the sun got in your eyes, the blasted wind knocked the damn thing off course…why else would you miss the ball?

It's practically impossible to catch it _all_ of the time.

………………

He hadn't been ready for this—not tonight. Oh don't give him that look, he had been planning to be ready…he had had every intention of being prepared for next month _by_ next month…really, I mean let's be fair here, it wasn't _his_ fault that next month had suddenly decided to swap dates with tonight.

It wasn't even as though he'd had any warning. He'd gone to bed with Will curled up against his chest as usual; he'd listened to the sound of her careful breathing, and relished in the way that her heart thudded against his arm for as long as he could…until he'd finally drifted off into blissful unconsciousness with the perfume of her hair strong in his nostrils…

And then, soon after (practically seconds after in his opinion) he'd been awakened by her uneven gasping; her small hand had clutched his arm in a vice like grip…practically a tourniquet…she'd been kneeling on the floor next to him…of that much he'd been certain…and her eyes…her gorgeous chocolate brown eyes had been drowning in a sea of tears.

She'd told him that the baby was coming…he hadn't said anything then, although he thought (with good reason) that his stomach had shifted from where God had placed it inside of him. She'd told him that he would have to go get the mid-wife _now_—_then_ he'd responded… (primarily with disbelief); the baby can't be coming now Will, he had remembered scolding her in a voice that didn't seem to be his own, _next month_…oh yes, kind husband that he was he'd told her that she and this baby needed to wait until next month.

But she'd shaken her head and loosened the grip she held on his arm, wrapping her now free hands in front of her (his) borrowed (stolen) T-shirt that she wore to bed, then she'd whispered the word _please_…and he'd known then that his stomach had completely disappeared from within his body.

He did remember picking her up; yes, he remembered just how fragile she'd felt in his arms…how her weight hadn't even registered in his flustered mind; he remembered kissing her face and telling her that everything would be all right. He also remembered not believing that.

………………

_How could she be having this baby now?_

The mid-wife would be easy enough to find, it was the getting there however that might be the problem…oh how romantic it had seemed at the time, to build their house so far away from the town…how lovely it had appeared: the view outside the bedroom window. Well a fat lot of fucking good the view did him now when he'd had to drive ten miles into town to search for the damned mid-wife.

_It was too early, and much too soon. _

But she herself had been easy enough to find, her house was fluorescent, even in the dreary early morning light, owning to her color-blindness he'd heard…once, twice…did it matter?

He'd practically pulled the old woman from her bed, in her bed clothes and all… (oh don't ask, because he can't recall how exactly he'd managed to get into her house in the first place, though he suspects that it involved a great deal of kicking) and had been nine miles to home before he'd heard her screaming that he hadn't allowed her to get her equipment.

………………

_Equipment_, he turned the word over and over in his mind, but it didn't help, there was still the very unsettling feeling that the word equipment carried—especially when used in conjunction with his Will.

_Why do you need equipment? Is she hurt already…is it because it's so early isn't it? Why is the baby coming so early? It's supposed to come next month!_

She'd ignored each and every one of his questions, choosing to address them all with the same knowing look of utmost condescension, an expression that in his opinion made him realize just why she was so old—death had clearly wanted to avoid coming into too close contact with her social skills.

The bitch had insisted that he turn around, using horrible threats concerning Will's safety until he'd obeyed. She'd then started the blistering tirade about it being _his _fault that they'd had to turn around anyway so he should really stop looking at her like that because he face might stay that way, and then his sweet little wife would gladly leave him for a more reasonable man.

Truly, it was all that he could do to keep himself from tossing her off of the carriage, (something that he suspected that she knew due to her smugness, oh yes, he needed her so she could do whatever she wanted to tonight…but tomorrow, oh yes tomorrow he'd throw her off the carriage…twice for that matter). She grinned at him, revealing a mouth full of the remainder of what had to have been a very terrible smile.

Her way maybe, of reassuring him that everything would be all right.

He didn't believe her either.

………………

She had taken an insanely long time to collect her precious _equipment_, and after that she'd complained all of the way about his idiocy in building a house that was at least ten miles away from (as she termed it) "civilized people". He imagined that she must mean herself, in which case he found himself feeling remarkable intelligent at his foresight.

………………

The house itself seemed different when he'd reentered it with the mid-wife in tow…it was almost as if someone (a woman no doubt since so far tonight they'd all seemed so intent on upsetting him completely) had sucked all of the happiness out of the atmosphere; replacing it _not_ with the sense of expectancy that he had planned on practicing to feel, but with a sense of dread…one that only escaladed when he heard Will's voice (usually so soft and heartening when she'd whisper her _I love yous_ in his ears) _screaming_ from inside of their room.

His heart sank, and his blood ran cold…time stilled about him before he instinctively made a dash for the upstairs…only to be beaten by the century old mid-wife, who (not really surprisingly) was very fast… (Obviously because she was so used to having to outrun death).

………………

The weather-bitten old hag then slammed the door shut in his face with out another word to him; leaving him outside, alone in the early morning darkness to dwell in his miseries.

Oh, that was it! He'd toss her from the bedroom window the very moment Will was healed! No, that wouldn't do…knowing that he'd murdered the old harpy would undoubtedly upset his wife…_she was strangely attached_…he'd just have to be satisfied with throwing her arse out of the carriage at every given opportunity (anything less than five however, seemed completely unreasonable).

Certainly she _must_ have realized that Will was too small to be having any baby by _now_. That she'd need at least a few more weeks to get bigger…to look more like those other pregnant women with their large round stomachs and lush, rosy faces…no, no this wasn't good enough! She was still too tiny…why didn't she look like them? Why hadn't he paid more attention to that fact before…why hadn't he ensured that she'd eaten more…or walked less…or _something_?

The sounds of her screams were muffled now…due to the fact that they seemed to have the entire universe separating them…but they were still loud enough to be heard through the obstruction of the heavy oak door. He found that he preferred the screaming to the silence actually, as sadistic as he knew it must sound…with the silence, his mind wandered…conjured up terrible memories of a boy who he'd known when he was younger…one who'd said that his mother had died in childbirth…

Will couldn't die…not from something like this…she of all people was too strong…but she'd been crying…oh God he could remember the tears more intensely than anything else…he could count the number of times (on one hand) that he'd seen Will cry…although this might have been the first time that he'd known her to cry because of pain…

………………

The door swung open then, and from the room emerged…the mid-wife, her face turned up into a painful looking smile…did that mean that the baby was…_here_…his heart shuddered, and then raced again…No, another scream, another lance that went straight through his insides, stayed stationary and then twisted about full circle…he should have known that the only happiness that this cod piece would be able to find would be in more suffering…

She looked around the hallway before her grabbed her frail shoulders in his arms, "Why is she still screaming?" He'd meant to sound menacing…to frighten the woman (who he was certain should frighten him) so that she'd fix Will quicker. But she only shook her head and asked him for towels.

"_Towels_?" He hadn't planned on sounding incredulous, yet incredulous he did.

"And water," she stated, freeing herself from his stunned grasp and hopping down the stairs with the speed of a much younger woman.

"What are you going to take a bath for?" Caleb followed her blindly, stumbling over two…no…three of the stairs in his haste. "Why is she having the baby now…it's too soon…so do something to…fix it?" It didn't seem adequate, Will didn't seem like she could be _fixed_. "…make her better."

He was so comfortable with having men at his command; with looking at a situation and knowing exactly what the best way to do remedy it was, exactly _how_. Fight, protect, kill…simple, so simple to unlock the secrets of a soldier's world…yet…all of those traits seemed completely worthless in the outside world, when the battlefield had faded away from sight. He didn't even know how to stop his wife from feeling this pain. For the first time in maybe years…Caleb felt helpless.

"Fix it?" The hag croaked. "It is perfectly normal for a woman to have her first child early…you men understand so little about what is important. And of course, if you're not used to hearing her screaming…then you must not be a very good husband. In my humble opinion, it's a miracle you got her pregnant to begin with…"

"You're insulting me at a time like this…when Will's upstairs dying?" Ten times, he'd push her ten times off of that carriage and nothing else would satisfy him!

"Dying?" She actually had the audacity to laugh! _Twenty!_

She noticed his frown and clicked her tongued in a bad-tempered manner. "Look, will you get me the towels or no?"

"I'm not helping you take a bath…although you might need…" She screamed again, and Caleb refocused his attention to the upstairs, following the sound of her raw, shaking voice, filled with the intention to just hold her and kiss away anything that may be ailing her, since an alternative was invisible…even though the ailment might be old and haggard and lurking downstairs.

………………

When he entered the bedroom however, he felt his bravery dissolve. Blood…she was bleeding now…and he'd seen more than enough; long crimson streaks on his (her) T-shirt and on the covers…was this why the old woman wanted to water…to wash away the blood?

He couldn't stand it…she was dying…now he was convinced. The world about him danced, a whirlwind of colors and rancid, bile tasting emotions. And anger…because he found that he was more furious now than he'd ever been before, he turned and walked away; barely avoiding a collision with the irritating old toad herself (a woman that he had only now discovered that he'd have to learn to trust with his life)…

He did however register the grunt of satisfaction that she emitted upon noticing his departure…he needed Brandy.

………………

Will could be so utterly annoying when she chose to be. Had she really hidden all of the liquor, he knew that she'd said she would, but had she really. It wasn't in the kitchen, the countless upturned pots and pans and ransacked cupboards ensured him of that…didn't she realize that he might need this now? To calm the damn nerves that were marching through his body, screeching horrendously in his mind, terribly upsetting his susceptible psyche…A thought struck him and left him freezing…maybe she hadn't…perhaps she'd been putting off preparation as well…maybe that's why she was bleeding now…

And screaming…although the sound of her voice had become steadily less frequent over the past few minutes; it was that that was more disturbing that anything else…

He needed to leave. There was no good to be found in loitering about downstairs, he couldn't help her…he couldn't even _look_ at her…it was too strong a contrast to the spirited girl that he had grow so used to seeing almost everyday for all these years…

He wanted her to be okay, the thought of an alternative…_any_ alternative left his feeling sick to the pit of whatever was left of his stomach. God maybe…_obviously _enjoyed a good laugh at his expense (watching him squirm helplessly about because of the rigors of pregnancy) but no, he couldn't be so vicious as to take his Will away from him…

………………

Hours later (or maybe half an hour, but that's beside the point) Caleb had decided that there was solace to be found in pacing. His thoughts as well as his nerves were behaving like crazed animals, jumping around and screaming in his mind, all vying for his cherished attention (which was still focused on Will, impatiently waiting for the strange consolation that he received from hearing her cry out).

And without any wine (he'd begun to imagine that she might have thrown it all away), rum or hell even lukewarm fruit juice he was painfully aware of each second passed in that eerie calm…those were the moments where he'd double his stride and attack the multitude of flowers that had invited themselves to play house on his front lawn. After all, he had never wanted flowers…especially those damn daisies…he'd destroyed them _first_ with a long stick that he'd found discarded on the grass.

Annoying…the lot of them…those sunflowers were particularly disgusting…smiling happily whilst Will was upstairs crying and screaming from the horrendous pain that had been inflicted upon her. He chopped them down too…damn flowers…

………………

He didn't hear her scream again after that.

At first he'd passed it off as nothing…they had been coming less frequently as time had gone on…but after another hour (three minutes) of mind numbing quiet, his legs had felt as though they would turn into jelly…for his arms had already liquefied, and his insides were still wound tightly around the afore mentioned lance of dread, now turned panic.

And he'd been certain that he'd felt as her soul slipped away from this earth. What else could that strange wispy set of white clouds that scratched across the grayish blue sky? Death…oh yes…nothing else but death, his insides clenched again…before he heard another whimper…more like a groan now…and then the voice of the haggard old nurse, as though it was rising from the very pits of hell.

Relief was not forthcoming however…far from it…in fact the depression that blackened his heart only magnified…engulfing his entire body, drenching him the fright that he'd do anything to be able to ignore.

This was far beyond his hands to help, he realized…looked up into the sky watching as those same streaks of white stared down at him, wordlessly he demanded that they reveal their intentions to him…but instead he became only more aware of the dampness on his forehead.

………………

He wasn't too proud to pray as he discovered soon after. It didn't matter in any case…he didn't have anything to loose by begging for aid from the Almighty (or _Almighties_ as the case seemed to be, since one God really didn't appear to be enough) and so he'd prayed shamelessly to any God who would listen, to any God that he could remember…even to a few that he couldn't remember…

This was his fault, he chided. Will certainly hadn't gotten _herself _pregnant…he should have…never touched her…they'd still be upstairs fast asleep if he'd only had enough self control to keep his hands off of her. If she somehow lived through this…he swore to the rapidly lightening skies that he'd never again lay a finger on her…he could satisfy himself by looking at her; he'd stared away half his life already anyway.

If she lived through this…he'd…stop complaining about her cooking…he'd never again complain about her taking away all of his clothes…the truth was that she looked better in them anyways.

………………

The sign of the sun peering at him from over the tops of the green mountains should have been a sign of great hope—he knew…but it failed to comfort him in the least. The world should have frozen over, much like he felt right now…the sun should be crying, tears of liquid fire should be pouring down its cheeks; it should serving its time in a cold dark dungeon, the skies should be gloomy and foreboding…_pathetic fallacy_…for he was cold and numb, yet so aware of this loneliness that had snuck into his soul.

………………

He had decided to shut out the sun the only way he knew how: by seeking sanctuary in the empty stables at the back of the house. Ironically, it was here that he'd nailed together the cradle…months…years…ago it seemed. Ah…right…the baby…in all of his fear driven rant he'd forgotten about that.

Well this was that thing's fault just as much as it was his! Why should it suddenly be forgiven…simply because it was a babe? He'd seen children capable of the most vile deeds; why should infants be any different?

He'd already made up his mind to sincerely despise the child when he'd seated himself of the slightly damp floor. The morning's dew had collected about the room…how did it even get in? Tiredness threatened to overwhelm him; his head grew heavy as the black ness took hold…

………………

He jolted upright merely seconds (hours) afterwards, feeling barely rested. Still, he staggered to his feet, wondering what time it was. Outside was brighter; the sun was almost half-way across the aqua blue sky, (so it actually _had_ been more than a few seconds) even the atmosphere was lighter, the breeze grazed his cheeks and ran its fingers wildly through his already tousled hair.

_Will…_

The old woman was standing outside on the verandah, tapping her feet in a terribly annoyed manner. "There you are!" she snapped as he neared the house, "I have been searching high and low for you boy!"

The screaming was done, he noticed, and the knot within his chest had slackened to some extent. But he still couldn't bring himself to hope…

"Is W-Will…is she…" _Alive?_ "…all right?" His voice sounded hoarse and dull from mal treatment, he swallowed.

Her face didn't soften, rather she snapped her lips together into a tight line, "why don't you go and see for yourself…she's fine…there were some complications…more blood than I would have liked, but it's all good now…just let her relax…I know that you're a very restless man…"

As if that were any sort of inspiration! But he walked inside…glad that she'd at least had enough humanity left in her decaying soul to tell him that Will hadn't passed…

………………

He felt like a blasted child, creeping up the stairs with his (once weak) now heavy feet; his heart thundering; his mouth gone bone dry. He waited outside the door for a long time…waiting for her voice, pressuring his ears to pick up the sound of her breathing—but nothing, only more silence welcomed him.

He swallowed one final time, and steeled his gut for what he might see…sickness on the battlefield was cold and unflinching, men with their eyes flung wide open in judgment…but he was certain that Will couldn't look cold, not when everything about her was so soft and warm…

………………

She was lying on their bed, head propped up by several pillows, (still, far too still), her dark red hair was combed back from her face, and her lips were parted and she silently (far too silently) drew breath. Around him the walls of his panic inflicted shell crashed down; the impact nearly sent him reeling. This was more than relief…this was salvation.

He walked over to her side, kneeling in an instant and without a second thought he collected her still clammy hand in his much larger one. _Thank you_, he whispered to no one in particular…_thank you so much_…

Her cinnamon eyes opened slowly, her head turned a tiny bit to face her husband, giving him a weak smile by way of hello. He watched as every movement played out before him…as the shadows on her face morphed, shifted and changed, before settling on her lips, by her cheeks and at the top of her forehead.

He'd make good on his promise tomorrow, he decided before pressing his mouth atop of hers. He did his best to savor her taste; the feel of her warm, velvety lips as they moved tenderly beneath his greedier ones. Feelings and sensations that he hadn't been sure that he'd ever know again.

"You had me…worried for a while…" he whispered, the smile faded a bit, and she raised a hand to his brow, brushing away the sawdust that she found there, "I'm sorry."

Someone had changed the sheets, he realized, and her clothes, she was no longer clad in that humongous black shirt; someone had placed her in a frilly white dress, one that didn't suit her at all. "What did that woman put you in?"

She laughed softly before reclining into the embrace of her many pillows, "you shouldn't talk about her like that. She's your grandmother after all."

"I didn't ask for that." He retorted; deciding then that he loved the way that she moved her lips, it complimented the softness of her voice.

"Did you see her?"

"Yeah, she's downstairs."

He did notice how her eyes shadowed abruptly, but she managed to smile anyway, "the baby Caleb," she shifted her head slightly to indicate something behind him. "She looks just like you."

Oh right…_the baby_…had he really forgotten, in all of his trepidation and rage and joy, had he really forgotten that the reason for all of her pain was that he was now a father? He watched blankly as Will began to sit up, "I think that I might be able…"

"No…I'll get her…" He pushed away and walked over to the cradle, staring at the wrinkled, pink…baby? No, he'd never seen a baby that looked like that…she was also too small; maybe she took after Will in that respect. He didn't want to touch her…obviously if she was moved she'd break…even now he could see images of the little thing shattering in his arms.

Her tiny arms were poised on either side of her head and her eyes were closed…he imagined that she was sleeping—well, yes she was; he could hear the drowsy sound of her breathing, he could see her chest as it rose and fell...Someone had wrapped her almost completely in blankets…she must be boiling…but he didn't think about taking them off…maybe they were holding her together…

She had _brown_ hair he realized (well, tufts of something that looked like it would be hair eventually)…he wondered what color her eyes were…

And despite having called her a damnable brat who had already decided to completely loathe…he found that he couldn't feel anything towards this child other than a sense of immense gratitude…and perhaps (perhaps) a sense of growing pride. Maybe she was like Will in that aspect too.

He did manage to convince himself that it was all right to touch her in a few minutes, then, he was able to carry her, blankets and all over to the bed and placed her in Will's (still too small) arms. _She_ however didn't look awkward at all; rather she looked as though she'd been meant to do this her entire life…

After some readjustment, Caleb seated himself next to Will on the other side of the bed. "I don't think that she looks like me." Was he really a father? He hadn't prepared himself for that notion either…although now it seemed to be far more significant than the date that he'd been obsessed about.

Will looked at him strangely, before wrinkling her nose, a clear sign of disagreement that made him want to kiss her again. "Of course she does, see look…she has your ears…"

"_Ears_?"

"Yes," she laughed, "your ears and she puts her mouth just like you do when you're bored."

He stared at the sleeping ball in her arms, not seeing what she saw but still managing to grin back at her, before burying his face in her fragrant hair and draping an arm across her shoulder. "I think that she looks like you."

"Really?"

"Beautiful…" and he lowered her lips to her temple before leaving a kiss there.

She looked at him dubiously, blushing anyway; it was amazing to him, really he'd told her that over a million times and still, he always evoked the exact same reaction. "I know that you don't think that the baby's beautiful Caleb." She whispered grimly.

"Of course I do, if it…she looks like me then she has to be."

She laughed again, and the child in her arms shifted a bit, yawning finally. Will paused, watching the child with insecurity written on her face. "Are you nervous?" Her eyes traveled over his face, lingering on his eyes as though the answer would be there rather than from his mouth.

"Very." He admitted, because even after all of this time he still didn't feel like a father.

"We'll be fine," she seemed happy with his answer, glad at least, that she could reassure him.

"I know," and he believed her, because when she told him something, he always did.

"Where'd you go this morning?"

"I was outside…" he tightened his grip about her shoulders, his way of telling any heavenly entities to think twice before trying anything again.

"In the stables?"

"Like I said, I was _worried_…and it's your fault, if I told you once _Wilma_…Stop walking around every damned day."

"Don't swear in front of her."

"She can't understand me."

"Soon she will, and then what are we going to tell people when her first word has four letters?"

"I'll find some way to blame that on you too…"

She stuck out her tongue at him and he smiled slowly before capturing her lips with his. He'd barely gotten the sweet taste of her in his mouth before…

"What is this? The child isn't even a day old yet and you're starting on another one!"

Caleb groaned and pulled away. "You! Out of the bed!" She latched onto his arm and forcibly tugged him away.

"And _you_, didn't I tell you and that babe to get some sleep…and instead you're minding him! Believe me, you're already lowering your standards by being married to him, if you let him kill you then…"

"Listen old woman, why do you insist on talking? The baby is here, so then why are you?" Will scolded him immediately (she was traitorous like that) before handing _his daughter_ over to the clutches of that she-witch.

"Go downstairs, you're filthy! And clean up that mess that you made in the Kitchen!" Will looked at him imploringly and it was only for her sake that he obeyed. "Get some sleep for me," he muttered against her cheek, dodging a blow sent at him by his flesh and blood itself.

"Bye Caleb." She called after him and then settled into the pillows. "Really," the old woman shook her head, placing her hands on her wide, motherly hips. "I just don't know what you see in him."

………………

**Author:** All right, take a second...enjoy the fluff, feels good, yes? All right, read my ramblings now...

That's right Caleb; bad, bad_ flowers_. ­

Look: marriage, children and **no** sex! WTF! Personally, I think I that I'll bitch slap myself.

Ow.

Back to topic: since I've never actually spent time with these baby creatures that you mortals seem so fond of, I'm of the opinion that I did a pretty damned good impression of one based on the google images thing that I worked with. Also, I've never been pregnant (I deserve applause for that me thinks), so maybe the pregnancy pains are a bit over exaggerated…who knows?

As for Caleb's reactions, since I behave like a man, I figured that I must think like one too…I do enjoy writing from Caleb's P.O.V however, you know, from the Caleb that I've created anyway.

So in interesting news, I take requests now, (which is **my** way of saying: 50 stories! What was I thinking! I've only got plots for five.) No Cornelia death though (ignoring the boos and threats) we have to be fair…I don't remember why...I think that Zadien had given me a reason why ages ago when the show was entertaining…do you think that it still counts now?

If you can't think of anything to request now, that's cool, I'm always contactable. Review please!


	3. Written

Written

By Seniya

_It's been raining since you left me  
Now I'm drowning in the flood  
You see I've always been a fighter  
But without you I give up _

_Always by Bon Jovi_

**#01 Motion**

And the world itself seems to slow down, stunned by the words that she's just whispered to him; outside the birds don't sing and the wind has become paralyzed…and then, as though mirroring the awakening from a dream, he smiles at her…and the earth moves in slow motion for a long while; but by the time he has taken her lips with his, the birds are singing again.

**#02 Cool**

He doesn't look at her; undoubtedly terrified of allowing her to see the changes in his entire demeanor that her presence has evoked…_play it cool_, he tells himself…_she doesn't want to know_.

**#03 Young**

They were too young…obviously; children weren't meant to see the bittersweet romanticism of the battlefield; children weren't meant to feel this lonely…_never so young_; children weren't meant to feel this way…to need each other…to want each other…_never so young_.

**#04 Last**

But tomorrow is like a hunter, constantly seeking out happiness for its prey, and he knows, just as he's always known from the first glimpse of the morning star lounging on the horizon; that this sweet, blissful feeling cannot last.

**# 05 Wrong**

She's tried to convince herself about the immorality of what she's been doing…she wouldn't be feeling this guilty if it weren't she knows; but every time that she tries to tell herself that this is wrong, he looks at her in a way that makes her feel so right.

**# 06 Gentle**

Oh God, he's missed her…and it shows in the way that he kisses her…hungrily, passionately…it doesn't last; her lips are trembling beneath his, and her breath is warming his frigid soul…she's gentling him, and he can't stop her.

**#07 One**

These were the thoughts that had stayed with him over countless restless nights…the scent of her skin…the taste of the flesh of her neck…and of course that one particularly sultry memory of the way she would gasp his name when he…and she…when they…

**#08 Thousand**

She didn't know why a thousand was considered by some to be such a vast quantity…it wasn't…she was certain of that, because she must have kissed him a thousand times and she still wasn't satisfied.

**# 09 King**

He was being stupid (as usual), and he was being reckless (again); he was trying to impress her (but failing); and all she could think of feeling towards him right now was aggravation…but thinking and doing are two very different things, and truthfully the king of her emotions was currently humor, crowned with concern.

**#10 Learn**

She wasn't as…_experienced _as some girls…well, most if those stories that Irma told her were true…and it bothered her—more than she cared to admit…there really wasn't even anything that she could do about it, being so damn…_introverted_; could she really teach herself to be more outgoing…was a different personality even something that you could learn?

**#11 Blur**

He was standing before her…carefully avoiding her gaze, staring at the wall behind her because the stones would never dare to question his decisions, she knew all of this even though she could see him; for her vision was already terribly blurred, her throat remarkably swollen, and her cheeks strangely damp.

**#12 Wait**

He wanted her to say it…he could dream of the wistful, honest look that would paint her face once she did…but she didn't, instead rewarding his patience with silence and a small smile; he was deterred yes, but never pessimistic, it didn't matter…to hear her say those three words, he'd be foolish enough to wait forever.

**#13 Change**

"Everyone can see it," Hay Lin had told her once (obviously in an attempt to pry more…luscious details from her), "everything about you two has changed…he doesn't look at you the same way…there's _passion_ there now…like Vivien Leigh…Clark Gable…Gone With The Wind…don't roll your eyes, Will…hey…w-where are you going?"

**#14 Command**

She always complained about him being a control freak…obsessive compulsive…something or the other; but if she only knew the way that he struggled to command his heart to stop jumping about when he saw her looking at him…or the way that he always failed to persuade the hair on his arms from standing on end whenever she touched him…she'd stop complaining.

**#15 Hold**

He'd tried to simply forget about her…difficult because he'd had to see her _everyday_…so then he'd tried to be loyal, to be noble at least…he was already in love, he had Cornelia already…so why would he want…_no_, he hadn't asked for it…why would he? She could drive him beyond the brink of madness with a single glance; she could make his blood boil and his skin freeze with the lightest brush of her fingers…and that hair…oh God that crimson red mane, whichhad the greatest hold on him of all on him.

**#16 Need**

She needed him…more than she'd ever thought that it would be possible to need another human being; she craved his touch (without it she was certain that she'd disintegrate), she longed to feel his sturdy arms about her waist, beneath her shirt…caressing her in a way that she knew she should feel terrible about…but she couldn't, for even greater was her need to feel that bone chilling rush of exhilaration once again; the collision of emotion and sensation that always left her breathless.

**#17 Vision**

She was forever stunning, even if she didn't believe that…in fact, she had this habit of hiding her beauty behind her hair and her freckles, telling herself that she wasn't pretty enough; but in his eyes…especially now, standing before him in a gown of the purest whites, she was, simply put, a vision.

**#18 Attention**

There was always going to be that level of nervousness whenever she realized that she had his full attention; her mind would fluster, her thoughts would jumble and her mouth would dry out even as she tried to think of something…_nice_…to say.

**#19 Soul**

It was amazing how he'd allowed her to slip so far beneath his skin; long past the layers of flesh, even drilling far past the bone to linger, stagnant in the confines of his soul.

**#20 Picture**

He could already see her face in his weary mind, she'd be upset…and she'd try to conceal the worry that would of course overwhelm her watery brown eyes, and she'd kiss him…she'd meet his lips and capture him with a tenderness that made him lightheaded just to imagine it; oh yes, his head throbbed, his back ached, and he was fairly certain that his arms might simply fall off at any given second…but he kept moving, because the thought of her kiss…the picture of her face, made a potent anesthetic.

**#21 Fool**

He could _feel_, more than he could _see_ her tears; she was sobbing uncontrollably right next to him, curled up into a tiny, protective ball, convinced that he must be asleep…he should have never told her that…he could have tried to pretend for a little while longer…_anything_ if it made her happy…but he hadn't (fool that he was, he could never realize the sensible thing until it was too late), he'd told her the truth…now, staring at the consequences he wished that he could at least recall some way to stop her tears.

**#22 Mad**

Survival was an instinct, and thus he supposed that jealousy was one as well; nothing else could explain the surge of anger that he'd experienced at seeing _her_ _holding hands_ with that…_foot-licker_ of a boyfriend…well anger, and of course psychosis; he must be mad after all, why should he care if Will held hands with her…boyfriend?

**#23 Child**

Will of course, had always considered herself as being very mature…well maybe not as grown-up as some of her contemporaries; but you don't make it through two massive wars without developing some sort of growth spurt…but he cripples that, for when she's in his arms, she feels like a child, all warm and foolishly excited, as though it's the best thing to ever happen to her…silly, really.

**#24 Now**

'Not now,' she whispers, Will closes her eyes and prays…to any entity who will listen…but the Gods have been deaf, they've been unreachable for days…a sob is born in her chest, and she fears to let it go, 'I can't go on without him,' she cries, not even registering the reply, the solitary voice whispering: "I know."

**#25 Shadow**

These feelings were like a shadow, darkening his heart, they were made large and powerful by the emotions that threatened to overcome him…well, not even threatened any more, he was already a victim, albeit a completely content, almost ecstatic victim…it felt nice to be covered, there was safety here he could feel it; after everything, he'd decided that he'd rather have company in the shadows that to be alone in the light.

…………………

**Author:** Oh God, sentence prompts, look, I'm chopping this down from 50 drabbles to 26, one for each crappy episode that we had to endure this season. Then I'm back to my angsting, and you can go back to loving me…

I'm gonna be doing the like the A,B,C,D thing that they tried to make cute this season, except well, since my mind doesn't move in normal people's order, expect them to look like R, L, O, V, T, Z. You understand…plus I only decided to do this after my English teach gave me a 10,000 word research project to do…you understand that too.

And yes, I know that these aren't really one sentence…but aren't ellipses fun? I used a lot of hes and shes in this, seeing as I am planning of using these as Zutara drabbles too… the next twenty-five should be up by Wednesday.

Thanks for tolerating me so far!


	4. Obvious

**Atonement**

**By Seniya**

Obvious

_Coming from the lips of an angel  
Hearing those words it makes me weak  
And I never wanna say goodbye  
But girl you make it hard to be faithful  
With the lips of an angel_

_Lips Of An Angel By Hinder_

At first, I ignored it—brushed it off; you know…out of mind…out of sight…yeah, not so easy to apply. I mean I see the two of them every day…and now that I _know_…I can see every look, every touch; every smile…everything…And sometimes it's just…awkward, you know, I feel like I'm intruding on this massive intimate secret, which brings to mind the obvious question:

_Why can't anyone else notice this_—it's so obvious. I mean, yeah, I'm supposed to be the quintessential _smart one_, but since when has Haylin been ignorant of gossip, when did Irma cease to know every trivial detail of Will's life?

And then it hits me—of course they know, it's virtually impossible not to. They're just avoiding it, like I am. Protecting her, still, because once Cornelia finds out…we'll have to search for her corpse beneath a mountain of rocks.

Maybe I'm overreacting…yeah, I do that all of the time. I mean, I really _didn't know_ anything for _certain_…I'd just seen…_something_…a moment, you know…Gosh, I don't even remember it that well…

Whatever…look, all right, maybe I can remember, but can you blame me for wanting to forget?

You'll think that it's stupid…really, but just know that you kinda had to have been there—It had been a Saturday; and we were all just sitting around watching Pookie the Tennis playing poodle or some such tripe (right, yeah, because it had been Haylin's turn to choose the movie) and I remember that Cornelia had run for the hills as soon as she'd seen our fate for that night, Caleb had decided to stay because he'd claimed an immense fascination with dogs (I'm sure) and Irma had dozed off thirty minutes into the thing, after all the movie practically made fun of itself so obviously there was no real need for her snide comments… Haylin was staring at the TV as though her life depended on it, and I was trying to not to recall all the places that I could have been.

They'd been sitting next to each other, which, now that I think about it has been happening less and less as of late; but anyway, I just sort of glanced over, wishing to spare my eyes of the plague that was Pookie, and saw him brush some hair from her face…that's it, wow, so I didn't catch her sneaking out of his room at 2 A.M, but I mean but I was still shaken, you should have seen it. It wasn't a "okay, so I have to get that hair off of your face" kinda thing, it was slow…really slow, I had to have been staring (open mouthed) for maybe twenty seconds…Will had frozen up, stiffened almost instantly and her face had turned paper white, she'd grabbed onto his wrist and told him to 'stop it' or 'not now', or something…he'd smiled…and then they'd both turned back to the TV, for Pookie had just won Wimbledon.

My heart had been going like a mile a minute, _I_ was blushing, like I'd just glimpsed some cheap porn…no, what's wrong with you, I haven't watched any porn…I mean, I guess…it's like I said, you had to have been there, because…okay maybe I'm exaggerating…I can't even explain it, but the words General Hospital come to mind.

It had been after that that I'd noticed the hooded looks and the smiles…they were really subtle. They never talked around us…never touched, but I could feel it…tension all around us suffocating like a thick blanket. Smothering…yeah, that was a good word for it, because there were times when I was around the two of them, that I couldn't even breathe.

I really didn't need this…I have my S.A.T.S coming up—and God only knows that I can't write teenage hormonal drama instead of the Trig…

Maybe it really isn't such a big deal, I mean Cornelia and Caleb had finally decided to call it quits, much to the delight of Irma who had won the on-going bet of exactly when they'd both give up…and really the only problem here was Matt.

He's a nice guy, I like him anyway…Goodness knows that I wouldn't choose Caleb over him—after all there's the proximity thing…the fact that he doesn't always feel the need to throw himself into the arms of danger…yeah…good boyfriend material right there…

Wait I'm getting sidetracked…so yeah, that's it, my biggest secret. And it doesn't even concern me, unquestionable proof of my unbelievable nerd behavior—I wonder…I mean do you think that I should tell Will that I know?

She'd freak…I can already see her reaction—she'd start chewing on her hair and on her nails and then she'd tell me not to tell and she'd have a really good reason why I should keep this a secret…and then she'd spend the rest of her days sending herself into a frenzy because she has this tendency to blame herself for everything…and even though she should be blamed—infidelity…it's one of those cardinal sins, isn't it? I still can't do this to her…Will's too…sweet.

_It's Caleb's fault._

He doesn't deserve my sympathy, all men are dogs, you're not really a man, so you can't take offense Blunk; it's no wonder he's so fascinated with the brutes—he's just like that Nigel…this story really isn't about me, but let's just say, I'm not much pleased with the out come of my first real _real _love interest.

He's corrupting her, I'll bet that this was all his idea to begin with—the fling with the blonde is done with, so let's move on with the red-head…sure…maybe he'll fall victim to the Asian persuasion next…

Well I won't stand for it!

Gosh, I'm sidetracked again…

I just hope that she'll reacquaint herself with that sensible side of her brain again…the part that hasn't reached puberty…that isn't distracted by snogging and…groping. Oh, that was just a really nasty image in my head.

Why are people even like this? That's what I'd like to know—yeah Taranee make a note, for your thesis in College, why are people so bent on satisfying their own selfish, hedonistic desires? Why don't they care about what this does to the poor people forced to bear witness to their self-indulgences?

Maybe…it's just a phase, I mean all right we all go through that I need a bad boy—live life on the edge thing…see where it got me? She'll snap out of it soon, I'm sure, Will's like that, she's smart and she's kind, she'll go back to Matt and soon after that, I'll get the call with her explaining it all to me. She'll tell me that it was a mistake, and of course she'll tell Matt, and it won't be in that Jerry Springer type of chair banging—whoops I'm pregnant thing…they'll handle it like mature adults…or seventeen year olds…whatever.

Wow, but Will…Irma, yeah, sure I'm still expecting that one, Cornelia would probably just make the guy leave his girlfriend for her anyway…but Will…

That's why this can't last. Yeah sure, there was a spark; years ago just the tiniest of little sparks, but it had faded. It's gone…poof. He can't change her, I believe in her, and that's why I won't say anything. Call me nostalgic, because I keep on dredging up the wonder years, I can still see her, so brave and loyal and noble, standing before us; whispering words of reassurance.

That girl's still in there, I can tell; sure she might be a little rusty from neglect, but she's around. Will is gonna come back to the good side, she's like that, I know it—and I'm not worried—confused, oh yeah; wishing to God that I was blind, deaf and dumb…certainly—but I know how this is gonna end. That more than anything else, is obvious.

**Author:** I just like that song; I guess that it sorta relates to the plot. Eh. TARANEE! I know that I'm not the only one who lubs her. Yes, so my story isn't so goody-goody, and the fact remains that that I'm doing the other twenty-five sentences (though written) later, maybe this weekend. I'm sooo sleepy. Urgh…reviews would be nice…hint hint.

Well anyway, I'm going on hiatus with this, because I NEED to get According To Plan finished by January, or I'll go mad. And we don't want that. So I'll post the next 25 and then vanish…

Confession time: I made a CxC friend; she's nice and sweet and likes Zutara. And hell yes! The Asian persuasion…hahaha! You know you want to…

Ahh…sleep. Night, I didn't check this over by the way.


	5. Written part 2

**Atonement**

**By Seniya**

Written

Part 2

_I can't sing a love song  
Like the way it's meant to be  
Well, I guess I'm not that good anymore  
But baby, that's just me_

_Always by Bon Jovi_

**#26 Goodbye**

There's a goodbye here…she can sense it; it's cold and it's bitter and it will scorch her tongue if she allows it to pass her lips, so Will forces a smile instead and the word vanishes, the pain however remains.

**#27 Hide**

So…he's told her…Will does register the shock, after all she never managed to make herself believe that he would; she watches, bristled, as the blonde's cool gaze slips over her…she had allowed herself to think that perhaps now they wouldn't have to hide—but she can see how she was wrong.

**#28 Fortune**

In her eyes lay the wealth of a thousand nations, a million emotions, all as precious to him as any jewel on this earth—some indestructible like diamonds, others as rare as an unblemished pearl…all gladly given to him.

**#29 Safe**

"What if…" the redhead's voice trails off, she can't bring herself to say it; luckily he senses her apprehension, if not her fear, "don't worry," he whispers, lightly cupping her cheek, "I'll be safe."

**#30 Ghost**

Sometimes, late at night, she awakens—and sometimes after that it disturbs her greatly that their marriage bed has yet to be put to use—and so, sometimes she closes her eyes and tries to recall the scent of his skin and the warmth of his arms, only then can she drift back to sleep, almost as though she's in the arms of a ghost.

**#31 Book**

"I have to study," she protests half-heartedly, not really even struggling as he pries the text book from her fingers and then lowers himself into her embrace.

**#32 Eye**

She takes one look at him before muttering to herself and turning around; fussily she orders him to sit down before pressing something freezing against his injured eye, he winces and she frowns, "well, I hope that you're happy now."

**#33 Never**

Will had always prided herself on being selfless, truly, it was one of her greatest character traits, she was sure of that…Will would never betray one of her best friends in this hedonistic way (she gasped when his lips touched her neck), Will could never lie to her boyfriend…not for _this_ (she tugs at his shirt impatiently, pulling it off without a second thought); so if Will would _never_…the question dawned upon her as she lay cradled in Caleb's arms: _who was she?_

**#34 Sing**

She loved him—and the knowledge of her passion sang through her body and forced molten emotion to paint her eyes, she watched him sleeping on the cot next to her, his face bloodied, his arm in a sling and the tenderness grew…_she loved him_.

**#35 Sudden**

"How long?" Cornelia asked nonchalantly, staring at a oddly crooked fingernail rather than at the girl seated before her, "I…don't know…a few months…three months," Will lowered her eyes, fidgeting with her hands for lack of anything better to do; "So then…why'd you decide to tell me all of a sudden? Do you want congratulations?"

**#36 Stop**

She's tried to stop, but it hurts too much…she needs him more than the air in her lungs or the blood in her veins and…she can't afford to be unselfish…not if it could result in her very demise.

**#37 Time**

"I-I don't…I want to stay with you tonight," she whispers, but she knows that he's heard her; he of all people must obviously understand the value of their time together…

**#38 Wash**

After the first time—she'd run home crying, feeling disgusting and worthless because it had been her fault more than his—and because she'd enjoyed it; but by the time Matt had come to pick her up, she'd managed to wash the tears away as well as the feeling of his hands and lips; she'd managed to get clean for the sake of her boyfriend.

**#39 Torn**

His heart should be torn…much like his head was, but heavens forgive him because he only wanted her, there wasn't even enough doubt in him to initiate a struggle about it.

**#40 History**

Their history is arguably just as complicated or as tragic or epic as any romance that she's ever heard of: deceit, betrayal, love, and it's all written in the pages of her heart—but the past doesn't matter to him, Caleb's just happy that's she's beside him _now_.

**#41 Power**

He wondered sometimes if she even knew how powerful she was—he couldn't imagine her holding any sort of arrogance…so he kept the knowledge to himself, it might not help his situation anyway, to let her know that she could probably have any Tom, Dick or Harry if she wanted them.

**#43 God**

Sometimes he'd wonder exactly what he'd done to deserve her, nothing was impressive enough to come to his mind…so Caleb decided then to simply stop wasting time with those silly questions, if God didn't see a reason to interject then what would possess him to?

**#44 Wall**

There are no walls before her, she's pure and simple and that's what he likes, what you see is what you get…but he's wrong, he can't see the barriers that exist, the ones that stop her from bursting into tears every time that he goes away.

**#45 Naked **

"There's no one coming after me…I'm safe Will, I swear." He does notice how her eyes darken and then shift, such subtle motions that stripped the lies away from him and left him feeling naked beneath her gaze.

**#46 Drive**

"You have no idea what you do to me!" she screams, her voice is raw and the tears fall like rain, "I can't stand it Caleb…night after night I have to stay awake wondering if…you're even alive…and I can't…not anymore."

**#47 Harm**

I'd hurt her, and I knew it—after all that swearing, all those promises that I'd never let her into harm's way, I'd caused her more pain than any of our foes ever did.

**#48 Precious**

Her friends were precious to her, her family was too, and that was why whenever he saw her looking away with her eyes glazed over and a nostalgic smile on her face…he never failed to remember the poignancy of the fact that she'd given it all up for him.

**#49 Hunger**

He was starving for her…there was no other way to phrase it; it was a hunger, forever insatiable, it craved for the taste of her neck, for her flavor of the skin on her stomach and most adamantly, it yearned for the sugary taste of her mouth.

**#50 Believe**

She could believe that he loved her; she could force herself to believe in the words of praise and adoration that he'd whisper into her hair…the hard part came with asking herself: why?

**Author:** I'm rocking the paragraphs instead of sentences…I'm gonna be kicked out of the claim thing for sure. I have to say that 24 and 33 are my favorites, only because 24 rhymes and 33 is FREAK NASTY! Hell yeah!

Coming up next is...wait for it...G is for Graveyard. I am an ass, don't be surprised, still rocking the metaphors though.


	6. Graveyard

**Atonement**

**By Seniya**

Graveyard

_I know what it means to be lonely_

_And I know what it means to be free,_

_Now I want to know how to love you,_

_Return to me._

_Return To Me by October Project_

Mother moon sat, lethargic, upon the sky that night…watching, as she had grown accustomed. Although upon this night, it was different, she was clothed in a sprawling white dress…whose skirts alone encompassed the majority of the heavens. The white cloth, as radiant and as light as any silk that human hands could ever create, billowed and turned, its folds rose and fell, curved and blew hiding the diamonds that Mother was so often very fond of showing…at one point the sleeves of her dress crept so far along the midnight throne that even her face was concealed, plunging the world into darkness.

In darkness humans falter, without the lantern of the moon or the eye of the sun they are lost; and all good intentions fall away—morals are not fond of the gloom…and humans are left to their own devices: greed, lust, fear…men are monsters in the dark, when the moon is blind…when the sun is asleep…man is free…the beast is released.

………………

She had expected it to rain. It seemed foolish upon retrospect…a silly notion that might have been developed within a naïve mind—but she had always imagined that on a day such as this—when everyone about her seemed to be so miserable and so…vanquished by sadness—that the heavens would mirror those emotions…and the rain would fall.

But today she had been greeted with spotless virgin skies and happy, fragrant breezes…the night had been cloudy, but the apology had been far too late; no one in heaven had shed even a tear at his passing.

………………

She hadn't ever been very partial to funerals. The gloom and solemnity always seemed like a particularly horrendous way to conclude someone's life. She had only been to one other funeral before this one…and that had been her grandmother's. She had been six.

Her mother had bought her a new dress—it had been white…oh yes, it had been raining then, maybe that was why she had equated the two…and the dress had been stained as the gravediggers bent and danced with their shovels to cover her grandmother in that sultry darkness.

_Ashes to ashes_…she could still remember the words…_dust to dust_. She had thought then that it must have been because the rain could wash them both away…like her grandmother…even then people had seemed destined to become memories.

And that night she had lain awake in her bed, coated in the same darkness listening as her mother had sobbed unashamedly in her room next door, watching as the shapes and the lights had flickered at the foot of her bed; she had sat up to watch as these lights had changed into faces and smiles…memoirs, until they too had disappeared.

It had been ten years that had moved like a hundred for her…she felt so _old_ now. She had been heralded into womanhood by tears and suffering…the war had changed her; life had changed her. She should be used to this now she had scolded herself, people died everyday in wars…but they…they had been nameless, faceless figures that had become numbers by the end of the battle. They had never been someone who she had known…

………………

She had felt her insides cringe at the funeral, her head had been bowed through the majority of it…she hadn't wanted to see the masks that those around her had donned for the occasion: friends, lovers—all had become mourners on this day, stewing heinously in the songs and the reminiscences. But she had waited patiently for it to end…waited…for the rain to fall.

What did the dead care about the living anyway? God, they were probably half-way to purgatory by the time that the powers to be started on Revelation.

Funerals were made solely for the living…really a useless ceremony that only served to remind one of their own impending mortality. God, she wished that it would rain…

………………

She hadn't noticed when the singing had dwindled into silence, or when the crowd had decided that they should all file away in one massive wave of black. She _had_ noticed however, when Cornelia had tugged on her sleeve, disrupting her thoughts; her own weary features signaling overwhelming discomfort.

"I can't believe that you two talked through the entire funeral." The blonde scolded as soon as they were back on earth, Will had been privy to that either, but she knew instinctively that she was directing such disapproval towards Haylin.

"Well, what?" Haylin shrugged, her voice rising several octaves because of the accusation, "seriously, he didn't show up to his own father's funeral? That's really weird."

"People have different ways of dealing with things Haylin…you shouldn't judge." Taranee shook her head at the Asian's reaction…primarily stammering.

"I'm with Haylin on this one," Irma interjected and four pairs of eyes turned to survey her, "I mean…what Corny he didn't tell you where he'd be? Because I mean we wouldn't have had to judge if one of you would talk to us…maybe include us in the cool kids club for once…unless…you _don't know_."

Four other pairs of eyes swiveled again before stilling on the blonde's paling face. "He…look how is this the problem here? You have no respect for anyone or anything, and people were staring for God's sake…and let's not forget that Will was off in la-la land for the entire ceremony. You want to talk about weird let's talk about how none of you know how to behave! It would have been better if you'd all had just stayed away."

"You told us to come…remember…you'd said that we had to because it was _expected_. And look your little lover-boy didn't even give a damn!"

"Look, just stop it." She spoke; her voice felt awkward falling from her lips. "I know that this is a messed up situation…but the man just died, can't we fight about this tomorrow?"

"What's gonna be different tomorrow? He'll still be dead." Taranee questioned, her eyes however remained fixed on Irma's face.

"Tomorrow…" she glanced out the small window that showed the dusty sidewalk and the cloudless sky outside. "I dunno…but I don't feel like dealing with this now."

Cornelia rolled her eyes and forced her mouth into a tight line as though struggling to withhold another scathing comment.

"I'm pretty sleepy you guys." Haylin's impressive effort to ease the tension did not go unnoticed; rather it was followed by several grunts of agreement. "Cornelia…I'm sorry…" she looked at Irma's stubborn frame, "_we're _sorry for talking through the funeral…it wasn't nice."

………………

She was already through the front door before the inadequacy of Haylin's adjective struck her.

_Nice?_ As though the man was a fancy dress or a new pair of shoes? _Nice?_ As though he hadn't sacrificed his very life for his beliefs…as though nothing mattered?

She could already hear them all…she could already see her own massive coffin being lowered into the darkness, now significantly less consoling. _Will was such a nice girl_, she was such _a kind girl_…a torrent of useless…_words_ that wouldn't matter because soon they'd all be back home using those same words to describe boybands and prom dates.

………………

She hadn't gone home right away. There really seemed to be no solace to be found there, and the thought of being trapped within the familiar hadn't seemed particularly appealing to her. So she'd walked around until her feet hurt, and then she'd decided to settle on the swings in the park…

It was now near midnight from what she could tell…an hour past curfew…another week of being grounded perhaps…or maybe no television…

………………

She kicked her feet into the sand beneath the swings, watching as the dust rose with the frigid night air only to sink again. The metal chain that she was clinging to burned in her hand despite the frigidity of the night.

She was becoming tired of this cycle. Trying to be normal when she so clearly wasn't; she was tired of trying to achieve this balance…the yin and yang that was so obviously blurred into a mess of swirling grays.

She exhaled slowly, ready to dissolve into yet another puddle of contemplation before she heard him coming up from behind her.

"What are you doing out so late?"

She didn't even start at the sound of his voice, she was so used to him sneaking up behind her that she liked to think that she could almost sense it when he was near…her heart would race, her mind would clear and her voice would hide in her chest…stupid really, her own little alarm.

"I-I where were you today?" But upon realizing just how harsh that sentence must sound to anyone in the initial stages of grief she attempted to retract it. "I-I…mean…Cornelia was…err…looking for you."

He was silent after that, and then she felt excessively foolish for her lack of good conversation…Irma would have found something funny to say…Taranee would have known something wise…and she was no different than they were…the man was still dead, and she was still a foolish little girl who had somehow developed a messy swarm of emotions wherever _he_ was concerned.

………………

She didn't like it. Anything that was, about her predicament. She was feeling too much, there were too many emotions here—too many wants and needs and shoulds…but she couldn't tell them apart. So curse that too.

And then there was that…other thing that was biting at the back of her neck. The fear…the horrible realization that she wasn't even half as brave as she'd like to imagine…

She had to ask, "Caleb…I was…why didn't you come?"

She didn't dare look at him, it was hard even to stop her knees from shaking now…but she could feel as his gaze dropped to her head, and she did notice when he spoke, "I didn't need to."

"What do you mean?"

He shrugged, and grumbled something incoherent in reply. She ran her tongue along the backs of her teeth…this wasn't going well…

"I…don't like funerals," she admitted, rolling the tops of her sneakers into the dirt. "I…don't like to think about…that."

"Death?"

She shook her head and whispered, "dying."

The night hovered about them both, pregnant with silence, ready to birth this quiet into the ears of this unsuspecting pair. He stopped it, reaching through the darkness to grab hold of her arm; she was startled then, so surprised by his actions that as he pulled her into his embrace she dragged the swing with her.

The protest died on her lips…she knew what she should do…push him away, continue to ignore the tightness in her stomach…but she didn't, because as much as she hated to admit it, she loved being wrapped in his arms—the warmth, the smells…they reminded of her of what she so desperately wanted to be reminded of…_life_.

The chain slipped away into the darkness.

………………

They stayed there for a while—she breathed him in, taking comfort from his silence, finding strength in his subtle heartbeat. They stayed there until she could no longer ignore her conscience, and when he could no longer keep himself firmly secure behind the line of _friend_.

………………

She moved away first, reluctantly…with her face severely darkened with the unlikely mixture of shame and innocence. "You were right…it is late…I-I should get home."

She imagined that he might have been looking at her…near her anyway, but she was too afraid to seek answers to her queries. "Do you want me to walk you…"

"No," she interrupted, _was he completely oblivious to this tension that was constantly between them?_ "I'll…be okay." She turned around and stuffed her fingers in the pockets of her jacket.

"Thank you Will…"

"For what?" Her heart was struggling to break free of this growing strain, now beating so fast that it actually hurt…

"Just…thanks."

She nodded and walked away; acutely aware of his eyes on her back.

………………

Sometime that night, the moon undressed, tired of the foppery…and the rain did fall.

………………

**Author:** This is some deep shit. I'm sorry; I swear to stop cussing so much.

I love October Project…although I'm pretty much convinced that I'm their only fan under 30; anyway when I write I try to mimic the way their lyrics flow in their songs. Just a random fact…anyway, yes, angst ahh beloved angst…I tried to stay away, but I found myself tearing up over Anastasia today and decided to hate these accursed emotions.

Moral? I love October Project and death…put the two together, now we're cooking.

Happy Turkey day y'all! I'm a vegetarian so I spent my yesterdays whining about fowl rights. Fun, fun. Also, expect chapter…whatever of According To Plan to be up next weekend. I hope…never fear; I've been writing the end, which is finished, now for the middle…

**EDIT:** Do you see how long I've been trying to update?

**Notes:** Next…K is for **Kiss**. Bohahahaha! Watch as I use this crappy metaphor/pun system to my Will/Caleb advantage. That's your gift HA.

**Disclaimer:** Ain't mine y'all.


	7. Kiss

**Atonement**

**By Seniya**

Kiss

_I want to love you, but I better not touch,  
I want to hold you but my senses tell me to stop,  
I want to kiss you but I want it too much,  
I want to taste you but your lips are venomous poison   
You're poison running through my veins._

_Poison by Alice Cooper_

Once there had been a girl, and once there had been a boy; in the eyes of those around them that's exactly all they were: children. No one cared to peer deeper beneath the initial layer of skin to see how these two had been forced into adulthood; how the safety of childhood had been snatched from their pubescent fingers long before they had ever had a chance to appreciate its value.

These eyes all saw what they wanted to: a girl, and a boy, made foolish now, made drunk and ignorant because of their teenaged heartaches. They were too young; they would say…this is happening too fast. They didn't know—mainly because they didn't ask.

………………………

Their first kiss had been awkward, and not for the usual reasons. It wasn't because of inexperience, but mainly due to nervousness—a girl who was crawling from beneath the torn pages of a fairy tale and a boy who had broken her glass slipper.

There had been the careful descent of lips, the hurried sound of their breathing and the feeling, oh the feeling of warmth…almost burning, fiery, which successfully evaporated every one of her inhibitions. His lips had been surprisingly soft, tender, and he had moved them both to reassure her…and in a gluttonous maneuver to savor her taste.

He had wanted her for so very long…it seemed pointless to continue on in this _façade_…of trying to do the so called right thing…attempting to change the restless desires into sometime more sedate, fruitless.

He had thought that she might pull away—run away rather, but instead she had held on, allowing him this moment of bliss, although she did nothing to encourage him…she was like that, _always_ like that.

………………………

The shadows about them were freezing, like the winds of the north rather than a dark blanket…it made sense that their first kiss should be in the dark, hidden, obscure…she wondered now if it was a premonition for the remainder of their relationship.

He shouldn't be kissing her—she shouldn't be letting him. This was wrong…what was she thinking? There was no relationship—she had a boyfriend…who loved her…and she…she knew that she would learn to love him back.

She felt his hands move along her shoulders—up and down—stilling, pressure, heat…blessed warmth…she parted her lips.

………………………

He found his way inside, managing to conceal his surprise with a mere groan…he pushed her backwards and she staggered in the direction, obviously lightheaded for these rioting sensations that were coursing through her veins, fuel for her racing heart.

She was burning…breaking apart…there was a pressure inside of her that was so powerful she knew that it would destroy her…she…she didn't want to stop it.

………………………

He pulled away moments after…his breath coming in quick, sharp gasps and he stared at her as she stared at him…her eyes were hazy, her cheeks still dirty from the hot tears that had poured from her eyes only minutes before…his eyes were dark, and demanding…he wanted to know. She could already sense the question…he wouldn't allow her to run any longer.

"Don't stop." She whispered, and he obliged her, bending his head—tilting her face upwards for the second kiss.

………………………

Their second kiss was a celebration, albeit short-lived…euphoria transformed rapidly into desperation, soon there was nothing separating them but hands—reaching, holding, pulling…closer, her back touched the wall then, her fingers knotted in his shirt, his fingers twined in her hair and their lips fought, their tongues danced, and the war over desire was won.

The third kiss was tender, for sometime after the second she had become overcome with guilt (as visions of loyalties had slipped through her head); he had attempted to comfort her using the same methods that had caused her this pain. He had kissed her trembling, kiss swollen lips whispering confessions against her hair, words that she would learn to believe soon enough.

After the fourth kiss she would stop counting, she would learn to forget, to relax and to simply relish in the glide of his mouth over hers. She would forget to consider all that this meant and all that this could mean. She would forget tomorrow, she would forget yesterday, she would just close her eyes and let him kiss her…for she wasn't bold enough to kiss him back just yet.

………………………

**Author:** To my girl/woman/sex hellsagent, for being one hott kid. It's all for you baby. I just remembered your post about this song, then I remembered that I SMEX Alice Cooper. Good combination.

Did you see how I manipulated the word _façade_ to continue to stick it to the man…or Weisman as the case may be.

Next D is for **Date**.


	8. Date

**Atonement**

**By Seniya**

Date

_The phone rings in the middle of the night,_

_My father yells what you gonna do with your life_

_Oh daddy dear you know you're still number one_

_But girls they want to have fun_

_Oh girls just want to have -_

_Girls Just Wanna Have Fun by Cyndi Lauper_

The night was still, the clouds transparent, the moon slumberous. Its nights such as these that one longs for, where there's only the quiet sound of your breathing and the gentle murmur of your thoughts.

And perhaps every once in a while one welcomes the intrusion of another; if only to listen to the steady sound of their breathing and to imagine the curious purr of their thoughts as well.

Or maybe…you choose to disrupt the solitude of the night when your thoughts no longer murmur or (even worse) when your guests thoughts no longer seem enticing.

…………………

Up and down, down and up, Juliana sat, her favorite doll safely tucked between her legs, (her safely between her _own_ mother's legs) and watched with large, green, sleepy eyes as her father paced with mounting irritation across her parent's bedroom.

"Who's David?" he asked at last, directed not at her but to her Mother. Mother didn't answer right away, instead her hands stilled in her daughter's hair, her fingers wrapped around a chestnut curl; he'd had to stop and ask again. Then, she'd submitted: "a boy in her class."

"A boy? What _boy_?"

"You don't know him; we can thank God for that." The tiny brunette giggled and leaned closer into her mother's arms, hands immediately left hair and wrapped around the child's middle.

Her father was obviously displeased. There would be no answers from his wife—instead he asked the smaller one, in a voice that simply oozed security, "Juliana, what boy?"

She didn't get the chance to respond, for sensing his plot and having already decided that it would be best if he remained ignorant, Will replied briskly (not to mention _vaguely_), "You'll see him tomorrow."

"Why?"

"Because…he's coming here tomorrow."

"I asked _why_." Her eyes lingered on her father's frowning face, even in the darkness she could see his identical green eyes glaring at her Mother's (potentially) unsympathetic features.

"_Because_ he was _invited_."

The final straw, and the pacing resumed, Juliana yawned…it had registered in her mind that this entire conversation, hence the source of her father's worry was _her_. "He can't come here…" Caleb stammered, "h-he…it isn't…_proper_."

"He's six."

"Exactly…and since when do six year old boys need to come over to girl's houses?"

Her mother laughed, and Juliana smiled, the slight bubble of worry that she'd been feeling floated away, they weren't really fighting…not if her Mother was laughing. "You're hilarious."

"I don't know what you do on earth, but _here_ little hair pulling boys are not _invited into_ your house."

Her Father most certainly didn't seem to share the humor, and Juliana held her little doll closer…David didn't need to come anymore she decided (feeling very grown up about her sacrifice) not if it made her Father unhappy.

"Mommy…" she tried to interject, but was shushed almost instantaneously.

"Don't mind your Daddy _sweetie_…" Will pulled her daughter closer, once again knitting her fingers in the girl's untameable nest of brown curls.

"Boys only want one thing." He continued, now folding his arms across his chest solely because it made him look all the more menacing.

"What do boys want Daddy?" Juliana questioned, that stopped his pacing, her mother however only laughed louder, "Yes, Caleb…what _do_ boys want?"

"Don't even start Wilma."

"You always overreact, always."

"This isn't funny. Juliana, this boy…you should stop speaking to him."

Her breath shook, her curiosity about the supposed wanting of boys vanished…a single protest escaped her lips, "Why?"

He faltered at that, never, never ever, had he been a good adversary against the force of a girl's tears. "Because…I said so."

"That's a terrible reason." Will commented.

She didn't know what terrible meant, but it had occurred to her that her Mother was most likely on her side in this battle over her. "I think Mommy's right that is a terryrile reason."

Caleb frowned and shook his head. "She's becoming just like you."

"It's wonderful isn't it? You can't blame her though, her father's insane. I'm clearly the better role model."

Juliana giggled, not sure that she knew what insane meant either but she did know that it should be funny.

"All right he can come…but I'm not letting him out of my sight."

"No need to worry your pretty little head Caleb, I'll watch them."

"Why doesn't that comfort me at all?"

"You really are hilarious." Will laughed once more.

Juliana yawned again, curling her toes and pressing her head against her Mother's stomach. The danger was adverted she knew, hilarious was good, everything was normal again and she hadn't had to sacrifice anything.

"Come on," she was able to register the feeling of being carried through the haze of her drowsiness, "she's tired."

He took the now sleeping girl from Will's arms, easily carrying the bundle to her own bedroom and depositing her underneath her covers, dropping a kiss on top of her forehead before turning to face her Mother.

"Do you know his parents?"

"Caleb…" Will began, before deciding that he was best left to his trepidation rolling her eyes and walking away; he was such a control freak, and time was simply something he'd simply need to come to grips with.

He followed her out of the room, pausing once to close the door behind him. "Seriously…what if they were…"

"What if they were what? Power hungry aristocrats bent on taking over the world? I think that we can take our chances."

He frowned; he hated how she could take this all so lightly.

Will sighed and met his gaze, walking towards him slowly before hiding her hands in his. "Caleb, what are you going to do when she starts _liking_ boys? When she wants to bring them home? She's growing up…he's her friend…they're just going to be playing..."

"I-I…" he looked at her face, the freckles that still dusted her nose and the lips that had held him captive from day one. "I want another one."

Her pretty face bent in confusion, "one of what?"

"A baby…another girl or…boy…" He removed his hands from his grip and caressed her arms, "please."

She laughed softly, "You're sure?"

"Well…haven't you ever thought about it?"

"Sometimes…but I never thought that you'd…"

This time he could mimic her ever-joyful tone, "I've never been surer of anything…" he brushed some of her hair from her face and continued, "I know that Juliana wasn't…we weren't ready for her…but look at how good she turned out…"

"Imagine how well we could do if we did plan it," she smiled. "She is strangely smart."

"I'll take credit for that."

"You what? Well then you can take the credit for her failing Math too, just wait for that one…"

"So is it a yes? Maybe not right away, but…"

She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him, burying her hands in his hair and finally pulling him down to her level. "Just lock the door." She whispered.

…………………

**Author:** Juliana is homage to Julian, who died in Graveyard.

Remember people, in Seniya-land, season two never happened. Phobos all the way guys!

I hope that this was all-right there was kissing and babies and stuff so I know that most of you will be grateful. **Requests**…I want you to give me things to write because currently I'm filled with the urge, but empty of the plot. I've got B, M, Q, S and T so far. Er…that's it. Review!

Next is B is for **Breakfast**. Hehehe. This is so funny.

**Disclaimer:** I disclaim.


	9. Breakfast

**Atonement**

**By Seniya**

Breakfast

_Lying close to you  
Feeling your heart beating  
And I'm wondering what you're dreaming  
Wondering if it's me you're seeing._

_I Don't Wanna Miss A Thing by Aerosmith_

Slumber is like a heady wine, coursing through the body and the mind, leaving intoxication and relaxation in its wake. Its saccharine taste is a bittersweet lure to most, for with that dark alcohol induced unconsciousness walks truth—realism made unclear by fantasies drawn to our attention in dreams.

And the sun is like a shower, icy cold and harsh. Daybreak washes away our fantasies, our liquor and our ignorance, welcoming us—thrusting us rather, naked and vulnerable into actuality.

……………

He had already decided that he absolutely loved the way that her strawberry locks would hold her face when she was asleep. It was a relatively new discovery for him (one only a few minutes old) but still, he felt that it could easily be one of his favorite things about her.

That and maybe the color of her cheeks at this time: early morning, when the only thing that dared to touch her were the shadows, when her lips were separated…he could just barely hear the music of her breathing.

He watched in absolute fascination as she snuggled deeper into her pillows, her tongue darted past those lips, only to return inside after a second's investigation.

……………

He could see now the memoirs from last night painted erratically onto her porcelain skin; a parade of scarlet marks that trailed across her neck, along her collar bone, and he suspected lower…although the comforter that she was currently holding onto made it impossible to be certain.

……………

He'd tainted her, although remorse wasn't in him. Had the Gods wanted their angel to remain spotless then they'd have resisted the urge to send her to earth to tempt him.

……………

She was an innocent…well she had been, before he's gotten to her. She had been something so fragile and rare to this sinful earth; and he'd taken it away; maybe it was natural for the wicked to seek out the pure, if only to darken their hearts.

But last night…he'd sworn that it would have been different but she'd been the one to stain him, she'd washed his oily soul with light, she had taken his terrible hands into hers—hands that had been soiled with crimson more times than he could count; she had taken them into her grasp and kissed them, washing away the years of torment and whispering pure salvation onto his skin.

She'd let him touch her, hold her and kiss her in ways that he'd only ever dreamed of before. She, despite everything had taught him how to love.

……………

And all he'd given her were a series of bruises; symbols of his gluttony and desires, ones that he prayed would fade with the sunrise.

……………

She tossed again, this time loosing the whispery reigns of unconsciousness in the process. It was an amazing feeling, he noted, to have every one of your emotions tied to a single person, and yet knowing that it would never be enough to convey the depth of feeling that she made him realize.

……………

Dark brown orbs, watery with tiredness opened to meet his face.

He could already feel his pulse racing…what would she think of him now? Would she notice that he'd been staring at her shamelessly for the last…hour maybe? It seemed ridiculous, even in his flustered, panicked mind that he should be nervous…they were together now; he shouldn't be worried about her noticing his infatuations, she was already well aware of them by now…

Yet even more ridiculous was the fact that he couldn't stop himself.

……………

It was hard to see through the sleep fogged room at first, there was a cloud of unconsciousness that lifted slowly to reveal faces—well _a _face—_his_ face. She was obviously still dreaming.

She closed her eyes, trying to call back the warm, delicious sensations that had held her throughout the night. It was a strange dream; filled with kisses and soft words, sounds and smells that had finally deserted her only to have left her tucked in a bed of exquisite awareness and several other emotions, most of which were bundled up safely within her chest.

But that dream had been…wonderful seemed too weak a word…amazing no better…she decided then that maybe this was just something that would have to be explained with sentiments rather than with actual words.

The dream wasn't returning, and yet it wasn't deserting either, no, she could still remember how…

She had felt so radiant in his arms…so loved in his eyes, she had felt things and thought things that she'd wanted so much to bring into this world.

But she was too awake now to do that. She frowned slightly, opening her eyes again in an act of acquiescence.

……………

"Good morning," he whispered, his voice was deeper than she remembered; her heart jumped at the thought, the cloud had lifted completely now…so if he was here then—maybe it hadn't been a…

"'morning," she replied, lowering her eyes, wrapping her arms about the blankets and pulling them all higher, up to her chin. He smiled to himself; well, at least he hadn't _changed_ her.

"So…how did you sleep?" He watched, breath held, as her eyes met his and a small grin came over her face.

"Um…good…" was he angry with her? What if she had done something wrong? She immediately raked her mind for anything that could have caused his uncharacteristic nervousness…but found nothing. Feeling that it was only her duty to make whatever it was that was bothering him disappear, she carefully sat up and drew closer to him, meeting his lips with her mouth, kissing him lightly.

The thundering of his heart only intensified with her touch, she had surrounded him entirely with her warmth, her aroma. He was swimming in it all.

'_She's scared_,' he realized with a start, her lips were trembling over his just like they did when she was afraid or upset. He pulled her away, looking at her strangely.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

She returned his odd look, carefully clutching the large white comforter to her chest before answering, almost bewildered, "nothing…"

"Did I hurt you…" he didn't wait for an answer, instead rushing into a difficult explanation, "…because it's…normal…it's supposed to…I mean…it won't happen again…if there is an again I mean…"

She did manage to laugh at his stammering; a sound that echoed off the walls of his discomfort, "So _that's_ what's bothering you?"

She ran a finger along his cheek, and then traced to solid curve of his mouth, "you didn't hurt me." She smiled, a slight blush moving upwards from her neck to stain her cheeks, "I actually…kinda…liked it."

He wanted to feel relief, but all he knew was gratitude, swelling up in him, ready to burst, "are you…do you want some breakfast?"

"It's sorta early for breakfast…"

"I can make you something."

"Are you offering to cook?"

"Depends…"

"Because I know that you know that you can't cook." She adjusted her blankets before combing her hair back from her face with her fingers.

"You don't _know_ that…"

"Well then I know that I won't be the one to test your culinary…"

He reached across the space to grab hold of her arms, greeting her lips with a kiss that was overflowing with passion, she responded, as best as she knew how, holding his lips, tentatively touching his tongue with hers once it found its way into her mouth…

When they broke away she felt dizzy, her heart thundered so recklessly that she knew that he could hear it.

"I can make pancakes…" Will managed, laughing uneasily when she heard him chuckle.

"Can you promise me…" she stilled at his voice, curious, painfully curious to find out where it would lead, "…promise me that you'll…never leave me."

She could feel the emotion choking her, she bit her lip. "I promise." She closed her eyes, trying to absorb all of the rough, raw feelings that were floating about them both.

"Because…" now there was only desperation in his voice, a pain that she wanted so much to just kiss away, "…you do know Will, that I love you."

"I know," she swallowed, almost flinching in the subsequent silence as he waited for her to respond.

She couldn't yet…she wanted to, but she simply couldn't; for she just wasn't certain how. She'd used those three words so many times before…because she'd felt like she'd had to, because she'd known that it was what someone else had wanted to hear. Now, this didn't feel like what she knew love to be, it was different, far more powerful, and she didn't dare dredge the deepness of this river of sensation with that one little phrase.

She hoped he could tell from her actions instead.

He drew closer again, kissing her once more before she began to pull him downwards, until the sheets and blankets and comforters had slipped away and they were both entangled in each other's limbs…

……………

**Author: **_(To the tune of jingle bells)_ I love smex; I love smex, la la la la la…

I'm all over the place with this story; it actually feels good not to have to think of a plot. Just write smex and sin until the day is done. I think that this is what fellow noobs call a semi-lime. I'll get better with the writing; I've found someone to teach me.

I am now obsessed with comforters, since I bought a giant Bugs Bunny one for myself yesterday…shopping in the children's section is always shameful, but once you scream out "for my cousin" at least three times, no one thinks that you're strange. (That's your moral).

You know what I'm realizing though; this is becoming steadily un-fluffier as I go on…

Hah! Sokai, I'm catching up!

**NEXT:** Q is for **Questions.**

**Disclaimer:** I wish I owned Avatar The Last Airbender…if I had the money to buy W.I.T.C.H, I'd buy Avatar instead…yep. I don't, so you know, not mine.


	10. Questions

**Atonement**

**By Seniya**

Questions

_Mary had a lamb.  
His eyes black as coals.  
If we play very quiet, my lamb,  
Mary never has to know._

_  
Lose Control by Evanescence_

**When?**

Will couldn't really pinpoint the creation of all of this. There was no real moment when she'd realized anything, actually…the beginning of all this, if she was made to think on it, had to be the beginning of them. Not he and her, _them_…but he and **she**, them. You understand right? Her and **she**…well they're like you and me. Different…good.

**SHE**, you see there's always a **she**, prototypical in fact, so long as there's a him, as long as there's a her. The **she** in this case was particularly daunting, because the **she** was about seven feet tall with legs that seemed everlasting—**she** also possessed this supernatural ability to appear as though **she**'d been professionally airbrushed, walking through Main street as though **she** had a team of foreign make-up artists at her beck and call; as well as…simply put other physical attributes that left one her felling particularly put out.

Not to mention that the her and this **she** are actually friends…fairly good friends in fact…not so much in the hair braiding, toe-nailing painting sense that we all crave but in the _hey, we've saved the world together _kind of way.

It's a very hard bond to break; I mean nothing spells out friendship like a life threatening situation right?

Which makes the fact that there's now a he between the **she** and her, all the more difficult to bear.

So when did it start? Ages ago, before the introduction of **she**, when it had just been the two of them. And the her had been disillusioned enough to believe that maybe…perhaps there could be something more between he and her. The two of them…something…epic.

No such luck, for fate is a bitch who must have at one time been a cheerleader, because despite what cartoons and musicals will lead you to believe, it is the outside that counts, and really no matter how kind and sweet you try to be…if you have buck teeth and a uni-brow, then that's just what the world will see of you…worse if you have red hair, freckles and knock knees…then you're pretty much screwed for life. Simply put. Hell, even Cinderella had her double Ds.

Will hadn't been surprised back then when he'd picked **she** over her—truly, if she'd been a hormonal teenaged boy at the time, she didn't even think that she'd pick herself. Let's be fair. So then at the tender age of thirteen she'd had her first heartbreak…wait no, at the tender age of thirteen she'd had her heart torn out of her chest and had been forced to watch as the ravens came to devour it.

She'd managed though, for even through her disillusioned state she could have never convinced herself that he would want her—even in those fantasies that her half asleep mind had conjured up late at night, it had always been her who had been the pursuer, he had always been some unwilling conquest.

Even then he'd never been between them…because she'd been able to just ignore it; he hadn't been between anyone, because she'd never been on the opposite end of the spectrum. It had for a very long time, just been them.

And she'd moved on, she found a boyfriend, a nice, sweet boyfriend who was every bit as handsome…who had wonderfully ignored the fact that she wasn't particularly…pretty or smart or funny; but who'd decided that _he_'d liked her for her. And she'd appreciated that.

And she'd been happy in that. _He_'d liked her, and so she'd liked him. _He_ deserved that…her heart, and so, easily, she'd let him have it.

Although…there was still…that silly little attraction, growing more annoying with each passing day; she'd managed to invent…techniques to avoid it, lowering her eyes, biting her lips…humming, oh yes humming was good…some Hendrix or Jagger because those songs reminded her of where her priorities should be.

So yes, technically, it had always been around, it had been worse then…wait no, correction, it was worse now that she wasn't allowed to acknowledge it. She just had to ignore the knot of dissatisfaction that clutched her heart so artlessly…it was excruciating, and it was growing steadily more difficult because all she could think about was hiding it, and sometimes she wondered if they could see her preoccupation in her eyes.

Yeah, it was definitely better watching the birds make a meal of her inners.

**How?**

Now this, Will could brag about, because this she actually had a date for, and a time…here it was, the official first time that he'd kissed her (on the mouth), the very first time that the question had rolled through her mind: _how in the hell had he decided to do this now?_

_He was late_, she had scolded, she had a boyfriend now…but the words to _Angie_ seemed misplaced whenever he came too close, and she could feel as those horrible emotions again, the ones that had only deepened after years of being ignored.

He'd told her things that she'd really wanted to hear; and then, he'd waited for a response—she didn't have one. She was floored: _how had this happened?_

He was done with Cornelia…she knew that, fine; she'd suspected that maybe he'd go chasing after some Victoria's Secret's model next. But he'd been next to her, kissing her…and she…didn't have a word to say.

She had been scared then, because he in about half a minute of mouth touching bliss had managed to destroy the foundations of what she had built up in three years.

She'd apologized, profusely, knowing that this must somehow be her fault because boys didn't suddenly fall for the girl that puberty avoided like the plague…maybe she'd gotten a new power…that had made sense as she recalled, running frightfully fast downtown, trying to get home in the middle of the night, Irma had mind control…maybe she had _heart_ control.

She'd laughed it off, and then she'd cried. She'd talked to Matt that night because quite simply she felt worse about being alone, and then the next day as he'd kissed her good-morning when he'd come to walk her to school, all she could think of was how…inadequate his lips had felt.

**Why?**

Why now? Why not then? Why hadn't he paid her any attention when he could have? Before **she** had come along, before her had found _him_.

Certainly, her hair had grown out…but that was it, she was the same old Will, nothing spectacular, so _why was he noticing her now?_

He'd get bored of her…she was certain, he'd get bored and he'd move on to some other girl…

Whatever her heart control powers had made him feel would vanish in a few days and soon, she'd be back to humming the words of _Angie_…_you can't say we never tried_…see look they were coming back already.

Which brings us to the now…

**What?**

Wilma Vandom, hopping along the sidewalk this brilliant Sunday morning, coming home from running some errands for her mother. Her I-pod was stuffed in her jacket pocket and _Purple Haze_ was blearing over the head phones.

She saw him, standing there…outside of her apartment, and immediately four escape plans drew themselves up in her mind. _Run away_ was step one for each of them so that was obviously a good enough place to start.

He called her name, half way through the bridge and she was frozen, she couldn't leave now…

She gulped, maybe he'd apologize…sorry was always a good ice-breaker. Sorry for being three years too late was a better one…

"I'm sorry," she heard, pulling the ear buds away…_what, she'd been right?_

"About last night," but that needed no further explanation, she noticed that he wasn't looking at her—she decided to follow suit.

She nodded, blinking away the pain…damn it, she'd allowed herself to become disillusioned…again. "It's not a problem Caleb," she smiled at her shoes. No, last night's hour long make-out session hadn't affected her in the least.

"It might be," he continued, her smile faltered.

"No, it won't be…I-I've already forgotten all about that…in fact…I want to go home…my Mom needs her," _toothpaste,_ "flour."

"I know that this isn't what you want to hear…but I did mean what I told you last night…I do…"

_Don't say it._ She closed her eyes, but the time had already past, the wealth of emotions that she always kept stored in her heart exploded, leaving her breathless. The roles were changing, the cast was jumbled as she could see it, gone were the pronouns, before her now she only saw faces, faces with feelings attached…things that made her wish that she could crawl back to three years ago when it had been so much easier to accept and pretend.

She wouldn't have accepted his words then, she wouldn't have been able to deal with the fact that he'd been choosing her then either, she couldn't even do it now…but at least now, she had an excuse.

"I'm with Matt. You know that." She was proud of how dull her voice sounded, but inside she was breaking. "You shouldn't have kissed me."

She wondered what he was thinking…nothing good she imagined, she'd distance herself from it if that's what it took.

"Is that the only reason?"

His voice hung in the air, at this time he did meet her eyes, although she broke the too-intimate contact before he could wreak too much damage. "No, because it's wrong…and…"

"The only reason that it's wrong is because you're with him."

"What are you saying?" Outrage, that's it go with that…but inside, her half-eaten heart was jumping…could he really be asking?

"I'm saying that…I don't know what I'm saying…" he moved around awkwardly before settling closer towards her, "well, actually, I do know…I know that you won't…like it."

_He was…_

"What makes you think that I would? I love Matt," And why shouldn't she? Matt was everything to her…he had held her when she'd been crying over him; Matt had made her feel gorgeous when he'd made her feel worthless and ugly. And she didn't care how much he thought that he wanted her now, she would love Matt, he deserved every ounce of her feelings; and she'd give them all to him…

"If you didn't though…"

"No, I wouldn't." Good, she wanted him to hurt, she wasn't sure that he would…but she wanted, oh God she wanted for him to feel the same way that she had when his gaze had breezed over her all those years ago.

Petty? Oh yes, but she didn't care, matters of the heart were obviously more complicated than mere manners alone.

Silence, the ravens were coming back for seconds.

"We're friends…God, you'll be back with Cornelia by next month anyway."

The dinner guests had arrived, they were descending in unison; in one magnificent black cloud, her heart jumped and struggled, but it couldn't get away…its fate was certain.

She would love Matt, she could and she would.

He didn't reply…and so she felt incredibly foolish, because she'd just had it, what she'd wanted, and had tried to want for all these years and now it was gone. She'd broken it.

He'd never kiss her again; he'd never again give her that much attention…

Her stomach rolled, the acid rising up her windpipe making it hard to do much, so she slipped the ear buds back into her ears, just in time to have Jimi croon to her burning eyes: _it's painful baby._

He had no idea.

…………………

**Author:** I'm not too sure that I like this story, it's not my best. Well, my alphabet theory is going quite well, see once the re-runs get started you can just journey here, for example if F is for Fucked-up…I mean _Facades_ airs you can come read my F is for First story and cheer yourself up with some WxC bliss. I'm writing these babies pretty fast so try to keep up.

Double update bitches! My bitches have love in them. How many ways can I piss off the CxC fans?

Read slowly, it helps, aloud is also good.

Um Purple Haze is a Jimi Hendrix song and Angie is from the Stones. I don't own those either.

Next, M is for **Misery.**


	11. Misery

**Atonement**

**By Seniya**

Misery

You sit there in

_your heartache  
waiting on some beautiful boy to  
to save you from your old ways  
you play forgiveness .Watch it now,  
here he comes._

_He doesn't look a _

_Thing like Jesus  
But he talks like_

_a gentleman  
like you imagined  
when you were_

_young._

_When You Were Young by The Killers_

She didn't know what love was. And for once her ignorance could not be linked to a lack of preparation—rather; it was due to a lack of information. Love was essentially a word, a word that people had made into an adjective to describe a rush of foolish sensations and emotions that some other person had undoubtedly inflicted upon them.

So yes, she knew that love was an actual thing, although not tangible, more of an imaginary expression, like a ghost of a word, something that made all of the other residents of the dictionary quiver in fear. Love made the gruesome _hell_ flinch because the aftermath of love often left men _craving_ the perfume of brimstone and the embrace of the fire. Love made _pain_ shake and shiver, because love held the very nectar of pain in its black and white heart…

It wasn't as grim a discovery as my prose would suggest, for it was only after that initial realization that Will noticed that love was also a verb—and a noun. Love made men _do_ things, and say things, foolish things that they once again attributed to that rush of emotion and sensation—and love was the name of their subsequent regrets and remorse.

There was heartbreak in love, based on the fact that humans needed to feel, and they would endure any number of sleepless nights and lonesome days if it meant that love, or something like it, would eventually find them.

And Will, raised on _Lifetime Original Movies_ and _Meg Ryan_ rentals had always braced her young heart for the onset of this love. It would be dramatic and powerful, and yes, there would be tears, but their salt would only add to the flavor of the experience.

But her waiting had been in vain…

…love hadn't come.

There had been _crushes_, Kyle Linton in the first grade was a particularly memorable one, and then _him_…but her first boyfriend, he'd loved her. He'd told her so in a nervous voice; he'd fallen over the words before finally smiling shyly at her…waiting for the echo that didn't come. That was the problem wasn't it; because she wasn't certain if she loved him.

She'd been patient with it, watching impassively as her heart had moved from excitement to mere recognition whenever he kissed her. Still, she'd held on, imagining that this was what love was—certainly it wasn't possible to still feel those stomach churning sensations years after the ignition of a relationship.

She was being silly.

She'd decided then that she was already in love. No matter that it didn't paint fireworks across the ceilings of the heavens or cause her to feel anything other than guilt when she'd told his eager face for the first time.

She really, truly, honestly did love him.

And then _he'd_ reappeared…and kissed her—not once—more than twice.

An amazing kiss—he had lips that could set her blood on fire.

Oh lord, she'd been ruined. She'd panicked, she'd run through half empty streets and crowded hallways in the middle of the night just so she could chastise her own stupid, lecherous heart.

She'd hated herself for a long time after that, she'd blamed herself as well—because although _he'd_ been the one to start this, she wanted it for so long—and it couldn't be right.

_Love_ had flown through the window of her heart.

It was then that she realized her folly, _she was sixteen_. A child—teenager? Somehow expecting herself to make the complicated decisions of a woman? Yes, certainly, there were days that she felt as though she'd lived through three lifetimes but it didn't change matters. She was still sixteen, too young, far too young to comprehend the magnitude of these sensations and emotions. She still didn't know what love truly was, somehow that had made her feel worse. Love for her mother? Love for her friends? Love for herself? They weren't the same thing…

_He'd_ left her alone after that…running away from him hadn't possibly been very healthy to his ego, not to mention her subsequent rebuttal. For his evasion she knew that she should be grateful. But there were times (not often of course) when her mind would run to that night…his mouth, his voice, and her heart would shiver, her stomach would plummet—and again she'd wonder, exactly what she was doing.

_What she was feeling._

For apparently, her heart and her mind had two separate motives and decisions on how to handle this teenaged heartache, and after a time she realized that she didn't want anything to do with either of them.

There were even more times recently, when she'd seen _him_ watching her…felt his gaze on her nape…felt his hands as they just barely grazed her skin. Torture…that's what it'd been, and she'd broken—sought him out once in _the middle of the day_, and pressed her lips against his…stupid? Very.

Now, love had nothing to do with her—and she was a selfish, heartless adulteress…it wasn't fair, love was too pretty a phantom to haunt her.

_Lust_ apparently was a far better word, noun, verb or adjective—maybe there was something psychological to this, maybe she kept clinging to this little boy smitten thirteen year old because…no one was coming to save her from this sinking ship and the only man who wanted to meet her atop of the Empire State Building, she didn't want to see…

It had torn away at her for a long time, before she'd finally decided that she wasn't this selfish…she'd found Matt, and told him that it was over—he'd asked why—and she'd told him that she needed time (a line rehearsed seventeen times in her bathroom mirror) and that she was sorry. She didn't love him, she'd tried and failed—he needed better, a girl who would dote upon him and give him everything…too bad she hadn't told him that.

She was still too embarrassed to admit that she had been unsuccessful.

……………………………

So maybe it hadn't been love, but her obsession over that one word had certainly made her just as miserable as any divorcee.

She had taken pride in the fact that at least she hadn't run straight to Caleb's arms in the aftermath. She had wanted to, but inside, there had been a wall of guilt and confusion that had kept her trapped safely in her bedroom for weeks afterwards.

She'd stayed there, once again waiting, waiting for these emotions and sensations to fade away just as they had done with Matt.

They didn't.

For after three years of tenacity, they were pretty damn invisible by now—and she'd fallen victim again, her body had filled with the stagnant, stubborn hope that she _could _discover what love was—because perhaps the definition lay in _him_.

This treacherous word that fed on misery…

…it didn't seem like something that she should aspire to find.

But already, she could feel it, her soul crawling out from under the layers of shattered dreams with her broken heart cradled in its elegant arms.

She bit her lip, took a deep breath and smiled. Her way, as subtle and wordless as it was, of granting the hope welcome.

……………………………

**Author:** The lyrics up there are supposed to look like a crucifix. Hell yes, I was born catholic; it's in my blood man. It doesn't really go with the story…but what the hell, I saw Jesus in the lyrics and spazzed.

Actually, I decided that this chapter would be the Will/Matt break up chapter so I wanted Will to examine love, and if the fiction in the bible has once shred of truth to it, then Jesus Christ dying on the cross was the greatest act of love ever…well, it should be, to me those mothers who die to save their children are right up there too.

I am writing **cookies** and **nervous** as asked, **nervous** is pretty much planned out but for **cookies**…I wanted to do a really weird one with Will buying condoms, you know how it is when you want to buy something embarrassing you snatch up everything else in the store to hide it…but I know you guys are kinds sensitive on the sex issue, so give me some feedback on that before I go writing it.

Happy Holidays if I don't meet up with you before then!

**Next:** S is for **Stay**.


	12. Stay

**Atonement**

**By Seniya**

Stay

_Let him know that you know best  
Cause after all you do know best  
Try to slip past his defense  
Without granting innocence_

_How To Save A Life by The Fray_

There are words seated upon the edges of her lips. Words, integrated with emotions, sensations, discoveries and realizations that she wishes not to be heard. For in her heart, upon that edge, she can at least pretend that they are sacred, but in the open, they hint at embarrassment, they scream mortification, so Will likes to pretend that they've fallen off of her lips, silent, her wishes hidden within an exaggerated sigh.

She's curious if anyone else feels this way. But again, curiosity alone doesn't persuade her to ask. How does one go about phrasing that question in any case?

_Does he?_

He's too nice to ask, probably hesitant because he's wary of her reaction—or maybe he simply doesn't think about it as much as she does, which then makes her feel very…perverted. Boys were supposed to—weren't they?

_It can't be her…_

It's not _all_ she thinks about—no, it just crosses her mind sometimes, like now, when she's cradled in the crook of his arm, her head on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. He drops a slumberous kiss on the top of her forehead every so often, kisses that never make it further than her neckline—kisses that she shouldn't want to go any further.

Because she's Will, the good girl, and good girls don't think about things like that, good girls wait for the white satin sheets and marquis diamonds with twenty four karat gold bands. His hand brushes along her sleeve, slowly, up and down, slowly.

She sighs again, bites her lip. It's there once more, the words, the feelings, gnawing at her insides with an increasing ferocity. She closes her eyes, begging the blackness to make her white, pure.

This shouldn't be this difficult. She's almost eighteen, more than half of her classmates have already taken the plunge…she's heard them as they swap war stories during class breaks. It isn't wrong, it isn't _unnatural_—so then why couldn't she just…bring it up?

_It is her._

Her, the good girl, who can't release her inhibitions enough even for tonight—because tomorrow, no, she doesn't want to think about tomorrow.

"Shouldn't…you be going over plans with…" her voice fades, these aren't the words that she wants to say.

"I'll have to go soon." Up and down, slowly. "In a while."

This wouldn't have bothered her so much a few years ago, back in the times when she could have followed him along, back then when his mortality hadn't seemed so impermanent. He notices her silence and raises his hand, tangling the heavy red locks about his fingers, "Don't worry about me."

And order, a direction—she flinches a little, hating when he does this. "Then stay." Let it be known that she tries, she urges every ounce of conviction that she can into those words. "Don't go, stay with me."

"Will, don't do this." The mist from the overheated road rises up, she watches as her breath curves before her, pulling away from his embrace even though her shivering limbs and lonely heart scream their displeasure.

"I don't know what else to do," vulnerability, that's all she hears, helplessness and bitterness, a horrible change from the bravery that she's manufactured over the years. "You could die tomorrow."

His face softens; he turns to face her, the bench they'd been seated on suddenly feels smaller, confining; tears cloud her line of vision, she closes her eyes in order to keep what's left of her pride safe. "I won't," his hand reaches across the space between them, a peace offering; it has to be, because he must know that something so small can't calm her.

"How do you know that?"

"How can you even ask me to stay here? To do nothing…Meridian needs me."

"And I don't?" Her voice catches; the dry night air stings her now painfully dry eyes. She doesn't look at him, she can't. "Forget it." Her face darkens, she's being selfish, unreasonable, she mumbles, her gaze focuses on a complicated knot in the wooden seat, "I don't mean that…I know…_I know_…"

He draws nearer, pulling her awkwardly into his arms. They stay like that for a while, absorbing the silence, finding solace in the company. "We've never really fought before." She offers her voice muffled and small from her place on his sleeve.

"No…I don't want you to be upset." He whispers, "but I don't think that it's something that I can help."

"It's not that…" Now she felt _stupid_, even worse than she would have had she mentioned…_that_. "It's not like this is new to me…"

His hand just touches her chin, and she easily parts her lips waiting for his touch. It comes, simple warmth, his mouth, his breath heating her cheeks—it leaves much, much too soon, their lips still clinging to the others.

She sighs.

"You gonna leave now?"

She feels old, resignation flows cold somewhere inside of her…the knowledge that she lives in constant fear of her boyfriend's safety make her recall the story of some old lady who waits for her husband to come home from the Holocaust.

"Don't worry Will; nothing's going to happen to me."

She smiles, her skin pulls tight across her face. He kisses her again longer this time, she can feel the urgency, sense the desperation—was it her own? She isn't certain. And it begins, just like that, the edge of this magnificent waterfall of memories. A wave of reminiscences that stream past her defenses, black and white, some years old, some days—minutes.

He twines his fingers in between hers, and the routine begins, he'll walk her home or as near to home as they can come, then she'll create a portal, and he'll kiss her goodbye. Tonight she'll pray to God that he'll be safe and tomorrow she'll wait for the slightest signal that he's alright. A thousand times, they've done this a thousand times. She is tired, so very tired of doing this.

Standing before the wall, graffiti and paint both smeared across the brick surface in copious amounts, the great light stunning her, temporarily distorting her senses, for a moment snatching away her willingness to feel frightened.

He leans in close, and she breathes in his warm, clean scent, trying to memorize it, because in her mind, he's already gone. "My mother…" _Oh God_, "she's in Jayden with my cousins…you can stay…longer…if you want to…because I want to."

The words themselves are laughing at her, jeering, mocking, in loud obnoxious voices. He's silent, she shrinks. Withraws. Until he holds her against him and kisses her again, it doesn't take her long to realize that he's refusing her.

"Are you _that_ worried?" His voice carries more than its share of humor; it's really a pity that she can't share the joke.

"Good luck." She whispers, her long hair moves with the frigid night breeze.

And he kisses her forehead; it's really all that she can ask from him. He turns and walks away, and she stares at the bright blue abyss—a world away.

She closes it then, because the lights and sound and current mental instability might push her into a state of epileptic shock.

_It has to be her._

* * *

**Author:** Not much to rant about guys, we're nearing the halfway mark now. Good for me—maybe good for you. I dunno.

Well yes, cookies will be about Will and Irma buying condoms. I mean seriously, doesn't that just write itself?

And that's right PORTAL, hahaha, take that to your stupid FOLDS.

In a bit of personal news, I'm a lot sicker than I first thought, I actually went for some tests recently to see what's wrong with me. It turns out having the same "cold" so many times in five months isn't normal. We'll see what happens.

**Next:** A is for **Assume**.


	13. Assume

**Atonement**

**By Seniya**

Assume

_You might have had me open  
But I must be going because  
I got life to do  
I know I'm usually hanging on  
I used to hate to see you go  
But this time it's different  
I don't even feel the distance  
I'm not missing  
I'm not missing you_

_I'm Not Missing You by Stacy Orrico_

I'd never try to deny it. I'm judgmental. And I know, in your cardboard cut out, girl-scout world, its pretty much one of the most disgusting qualities that a person can possess, but hey, _free love _isn't in me. I mean really, you see someone on the street and despite all good intentions the first thing you notice is their appearance. Their twenty dollar haircut and their seven dollar jeans—whatever; I'm just honest enough not to pretend.

Of course it annoys people. Beyond these natural blonde highlights there is a fully functional brain you know, contrary to popular belief. People like to live in the lies that have been fed to them through their parents and cartoons—that it's the inside that counts, that you shouldn't care about how you look. But that's not true. I know that it isn't, and it isn't my fault that it isn't either. It's just one of those things, passed down through generations…

By sixteen they'll all realize it. It's just that I've always been wise beyond my years. I've known since I was nine.

Survival instinct you know, from very young I realized that adults lied to "protect" you, as if the truth could hurt…

Well, yeah, back to the topic at hand. I'll admit it; I'm not **as **judgmental as I once was. My current BFF situation is testament to that. Irma (although God knows that she's not my BFF) purposely buys every article of clothing a size too small for the single purpose of doing what? I don't even think that she knows—and she's so damned obnoxious, but still, ignoring all better judgment, I do consider her my friend.

Hay Lin? No comment. Why make what you can buy? And pigtails? She's fifteen! Not to mention the fact that I'm beginning to believe that she's constantly high on ginseng. ADD much? And still, I talk to her, I try to tell her what it means to wear glitter blush in this day and age—not to mention—**leg warmers**. You know, just my little contribution to the betterment of society.

And Taranee! The seventies are over honey! I wasn't a love child; you weren't a love child, so why are you trying to remind us of that tragedy? I still can't get over the day that she wore a tie-dyed mini skirt to school. Ew. Just Ew. But Taranee won't ever listen, and if you even try to tell her how disgusting she looks she simply goes on to rant about _discrimination_ and the _causes of racism and homophobia._

I can do without the lecture. I'm right about this after all.

And then there's Will. _Wilma_, I should say. She who I have been avoiding like scabies for a good few days, but more on that later.

When I first saw Will, I wasn't impressed. Red hair and she left it that way. God, I would have made sure that I was a brunette by my twelfth birthday. And she has this, what I've termed, "just rolled out of bed" demeanor about her. And really is just the embodiment of—**blah**. The polar opposite of Irma, she who buys her clothing two sizes _too big_; well, my initial reaction to her was of course, psycho man hating lesbo, but she proved me wrong. Definitely.

Yes, yes, I _can _admit when I'm wrong. It just doesn't happen very often, that's all.

If you get past the layers and layers of fashion catastrophe scrawled across their faces, then sure, they're all _pretty girls_.

And Will, since she's the main topic of my rant, well, I have noticed how guys behave around her. Men, now I don't pretend to understand them at all. I guess that she is nice, too nice if you ask me, but—I don't know, I suppose that she has pretty eyes, they beg for mascara, but you know they're pretty.

And in that girl next door kind of want, she is—wantable.

No, no, I'm not disproving my theory here. Appearances do count. They do.

Note that I said that she has pretty eyes. Had she been ugly, for example if she'd looked like, even smelt like, let's say, **you**. Then I would be pissed. But I'm not, because she's not.

Some men just have a different taste that's all, it cannot be helped. If he thinks that she's who he wants, then far be it from me to try to break up their little fling.

Because, you see that's all that it is. Yes, yes. Rebound, whatever you want to call it, I broke his heart you know. And apparently I'll soon have to kick his ass once he gets this entire thing explodes. The thing about Will is just that she is too nice, like I said before. And she, poor thing, unlike me, doesn't judge people by their appearances. They take advantage of her; you see I could do this fling thing, easy, no problem. But she, nope, what she sees is what she thinks that she's getting.

Which is why I know she hasn't told me yet. To think I had to…I mean what if had walked in on then doing other things. Ew. Just Ew. I don't care of course; it doesn't bother me at all. Obviously, the reason why she hasn't told me is because she knows that I'll see through their little sham. She broke up with Matt, he broke up with me, and now, suddenly after years of not caring they're suddenly interested?

Right. Like I said I am judgmental, and I don't believe this for a moment.

I mean, of course I don't care. Yes, yes, I know that it's popular belief that I am cruel/evil/mean girl, but the fact is that I'm just honest. I am a realist. Practically a victim here, a realist in this land infected with fairy tales and day dreams.

I do love the two of them, to death I mean, but come on; does no one else see how ridiculous this is?

Of course they don't. Because they all want to live in lies. Whatever. Their problem. I'll just wait it out.

You see, I'm right about this too.

I've reserved the bragging rights.

Blunk, stop touching me…we _are not_ friends. I was just explaining this thing to you. So that you'll stop spreading those little rumors of yours. What did I tell you? That's right. I know everything.

* * *

**Author:** How to be a good CxW shipper? First, you kill/write out Cornelia, second you change Caleb's personality completely. So why not mix it up? Cornelia can't BE ALL BAD; I'm trying to think of her as a victim of the shoddy writing as we all are.

Hey you know, I forgot about this story and the reasoning behind me writing it. No fear, I'll get back in the game.

Review please.

Oh and thank you for nominating me for this story in the **WITCH Fanfiction Awards**. They're on a forum on our forum board here if you want to nominate anyone. It means quite a bit to me, since I've never been nominated before.

NEXT: E is for **Epic. **This whole epic thing is a little running gag between Zadien and myself. It's our official CxW word/theme.


	14. Epic

**Atonement **

**By Seniya **

Epic 

_  
I hear the bells  
So fascinating and  
I'll slug it out  
I'm sick of waiting and I can  
Hear the bells are  
Ringing joyful and triumphant _

_I Hear The Bells By Mike Doughty _

__

**Sing along mockingbird**, for a broken heart will not hear you. This melody of loneliness, like a curse, stirs the senses and confuses the mind, the heart; still aching is the only organ left with the ability to feel—and _feel_ it does.

Not taste, no touch, just a **shiver**, a meek sensation, like the caress of **the invisible man**, borne from within the cracks of a **broken armor**, and all consuming, never ending—panic, fear. Hope, no hope, nothing, nothing. **Ignite** and consume, devour, completely.

She's afraid.

Her entire body is wracked with terror; uncertainty, rumors, they've made her older, weaker? Fear is for the weak—isn't it?

He's gone, he's gone yet again, and she's alone, she's alone once more. She has his promises to keep her company at least, and his words of love and ardor to warm her bed, but—just but…words aren't enough to mend her shattered heart and life, all her world has been reduced to a **waking dream**…

The sun rises and sets, the moon chases its lover across the sky—but she doesn't see it…he isn't in the sunlight, after all.

There's no need to look.

Even the light only heralds **the start of the fall**, in her mind albeit **half asleep**, she can recognize the redundancy; the habit…out of **practice**, perhaps, but it won't stop…

_This, this is a sad, sleek world. _

Would it help if time simply stood still? If the clocks outside ceased chiming? If her heart stopped yearning? Could she feel nothing at all?

Even the hope?

But the hope, it lays in waiting, and the waiting, oh yes, that lies in the passage of time. Bittersweet. **A brief interlude**, the dream pauses with a note, with a whisper, with a prayer. He's coming, he'll be home soon. Soon? How long is soon?

Waiting, for a sign, a whisper, anything…no, nothing, the winds are silent.

The hope vanishes, mingled with despair—surprisingly they mesh magnificently.

And so suddenly, she isn't alone anymore.

…………………………

It wasn't supposed to be this way, and so she's naïve and stupid, because of course she knew…it had always been this way; _this_ had always been a part of him. Then, even now it seemed impossible to segregate the two. So had she expected that he'd change, that he'd stop because of her…Yes, she had, and now, she dared to complain that things weren't going **according to plan**.

She's started crying a lot more, its usual, and normal, she's been assured by the countless tomes that she's perused…for a person, in her _condition._ And the sickness, yes that too, the loss of appetite, no, not that, that was just an added bonus. That came from the fact that he had been gone for the last seven weeks.

Her stomach now is used for churning, for leaping and dancing at the sounds and prayers for news…not for eating, and so now, she's shrinking, fading, withering away. A waif…a **pregnant **one…

He won't be here for the birth of their child…he doesn't even know that she is…he never wanted a…and she, she was far too young…

…to be alone.

…………………………

**Will **doesn't know exactly when he returns, days have long since abandoned their names. But when he does, come home, it is without fanfare, without the heralds that she was certain would accompany his arrival.

But by now…it's too late.

She's alone again.

…………………………

"I missed you." He finds her upstairs in the hallway, curled into a corner, darkness her blanket, silence her lullaby. He joins her there, brushes his lips against her neck, relishing in her soft, clean taste.

She swallows.

"Did you?" Her voice is dry, empty, a **beautiful collision** of anger and sadness. Why should she be sad? He's here—yet, the company; she who kept her company for the past two months…_she's gone_.

"What's wrong?" He asks, and she cries, barely able to think, far less capable of saying a word.

"I am sick of this," she breathes, she sobs, her shoulders shaking, the hand pressed against her stomach shivers, it can't shiver back.

"I'm sick of waiting for you…I can't do it any more."

"We've been through…" not what he'd expected no kisses, no caresses…

"I know," she snaps, "I know, and I've always been _fine_. But things change…and I'll leave..."

"Will…" he pleads, watching, awestruck as she staggers to her feet.

"Why can't you stay here for me? I'm twenty two…and what do I do? I wait like some psychotic old woman for you. I can't…I've been waiting since I was _thirteen_…"

He's on his feet now, following her as she backs away; her beautiful hair is wild about her face, her eyes are wide and bright with tears.

"Calm down," they've never fought before—not really, and her tears, they don't help him through this confusion.

"No…" she whispers, "She's _dead_ Caleb…my _baby_…"

"What baby?"

"I…" the tears fall again, she's so small, so fragile, "…we were…you weren't here to know!"

"Will…" it shocks him, and he's drowning in the sudden icy cold knowledge, "…are you…"

"No." then, softly, "not anymore."

The shadows have fallen away, and reality, borne in the light, slowly seeps through the space in between them.

"Are you…I mean…"

"Pick. Choose, go on do it…" she stares at him, those mesmerizing brown orbs, dead, murdered by his own hands, still, beneath the layers of liquid emotion. "I'm sick of being selfless and brave for you…if you love me…then stay. There's no reason, absolutely no reason for you to keep…"

And he's closed the distance, he's cradled her in his arms, and she's melted into his chest, and she's crying again, harder this time…until he can feel it as it edges into his being. "Please love," he prays into her hair, "don't. Not any more, I'll stay. I promise."

**Atonement, **it brings salvation, willingly poured into a lonely soul. Whispers and prayers, answers union and happiness, tomorrow.

…………………………

**Author:** So yeah, I sat and said to myself, how to make epic, _epic_? Then I went on the WxC C2 and just started jotting down the story names of some of the WxC stories. I found it fitting.

Thank you, I am touched, for nominating me for all those Awards. I don't think that I'll win, but it does feel nice to be recognized, even if it is on such a small basis.

Ah well, the title of this chapter is seriously based on my fixation with Veronica Mars and this one episode with her and (drools) LOGAN…le sigh, right um, yeah, epic. The song is from that episode.


	15. Fan

**Atonement**

**By Seniya**

Fan

_Oh can't you see  
_

_You belong to me  
_

_How my poor heart aches  
_

_With every step you take  
_

_Every move you make  
_

_Every vow you break  
_

_Every smile you fake  
_

_Every claim you stake  
_

_I'll be watching you_

_Every Step You Take By Sting_

………………………..

Bliss can possibly be defined as falling asleep with her on my arm. I'm fairly certain that she doesn't know it, but there's this thing…that she does with her mouth when she's dreaming. That's nice too. Yeah, that's it, simple, I know, this definition of bliss. Because recently I'm discovering that bliss really isn't at all complicated. _Her_, I guess, she has this other habit of uncomplicating things.

Bliss is also waking up with her sprawled across my chest, because (and she'd deny it) she's a horrible sleeper. She usually winds up on top of me, and then of course comes the part when she awakens and blushes and stammers…yeah, little things.

But this morning, she wasn't ontop of me…or next to me for that matter…

"Will?" It's too early to be worried (the brightly colored alarm clock on her nightstand heralds 4:30 AM), but I manage it anyway. She also does that to me by the way, makes me worry—she's too small, you have to see her to really understand but she's tiny. You'd worry too, especially since she doesn't seem to notice—or care about the fact that most people outweigh her by twenty pounds.

"Will where are you?"

"I'm here," she wanders out of her closet, her hands tugging at her hair, which I assume that she's trying to detangle—no use. She clad in a massive gray shirt, a very familiar looking shirt in fact, one shoe on her foot…

"Come back to bed."

"I'm going jogging."

"Now?"

"Yes, now."

Jogging is pointless, what's the use of running in circles—you train horses like that, you herd cattle like that. She doesn't seem to care for my opinon much though (and I have expressed it to her many times), seeing as she continues on with this; now _this_ is a habit I can do without. Everytime I come to visit her, she jumps out of bed at these God forsaken hours to go running.

And when she comes back she doesn't even _rejoin_ me in bed. It's damn near cruelty.

"Have you seen my other shoe?"

I pull the covers over my face, mumbling a _no_. Of course, I'm not a morning person, in my experience, you awoke at the crack of dawn to win wars, not to…what was it…_jog_?

Her dorm is disgusting in any case, you can't find anything in here…

"Found it!" she chirps and then sits next to me and laces it up.

"Come back to bed." I'm fairly certain that I can break her down if I keep at it.

"No…"

"Yes…" I reach for her slight frame (a surprise attack) intending to pull her back underneath the covers, but she's already pranced over to the other side of the room, rumaging through her drawers.

"Besides, I am expected."

"Expected, by who?"

"My friends. They're from the high school here, they're on the track team so they jog with me on mornings—since you don't want to."

She looks over her shoulder at me, smirking, have I mentioned her mouth? Because it's perfect.

"What is it with you girls and running around in circles."

"They're not girls."

"What?" I managed to convince my lazy mind and body to sit up.

"Don't freak out. They're just some guys that run with me. They say that's its good practice for when the track season starts."

"When has this started?"

"Don't Caleb, they're like, sixteen maybe." As if that would comfort anyone.

"That's a terrible age…boys that age only want one thing…"

"Not this again," she interjects.

"Well, you don't seem to listen when I tell you this."

"And what do _you _want?"

"For you to come back to bed. I'm not going to deny it."

She blushes, but manages to laugh. "Well, don't try to pin your one track mind on everyone else."

"Where are they?"

"Why?"

"I'm just gonna…"

"No."

"Why, what am I going to do?"

"You are going to go downstairs and scare them off. You'll tell them something like, I'll saw off your arms and reattach them to your back…"

"That's original." I stagger from bed, drawing nearer to her, "I'll remember it for later."

"Haha." She presses a kiss on my cheek. "But I'm a big girl now. I can take care of myself. Besides, they're really sweet guys."

She turns away, making her way through clothes and books towards the door. I know that the park is merely across the street, I know that she'll run around for maybe half an hour and then return, but still…

Like I said, she's five foot nothing. Too small, far too small.

"Wait Will." The inclusion of boys in this equation changes everything. Boys are disgusting pigs. They'll probably run behind her simply to stare…or "accidentally" brush up against her…And she, being Will, won't notice or care…so of course, _as usual_ it is my duty as the paranoid boyfriend to care and know _for her_. "I'll go with you."

"You?" She snorts. So perhaps my lengthy rants on the futility of jogging (delivered to her at least once a week, every week) are now coming back to bite me in the ass.

"Yes, me." I ignore her raised eyebrows. "What? It's a free country."

"I thought that _normal people don't jog_."

"They don't. And it's bad for the knees."

"So then…"

"Because, since you won't stay here, I think that it's a good way to spend time together."

"Suddendly…"

"No…not suddendly. I've been thinking about it for a while." _It's just that this makes it all the more dire._

"If you promise to behave…"

"I promise. Now, I want a shirt, where's the one that I had on last night?"

"Is this it? Turn around, I'll give you it back."

"Turn around?" Maybe I should learn to think before I speak. "Why? It's not like I haven't already…"

"Just do it." She's blushing again. I wish she would have just stayed in bed and let me enjoy her warm, flowery smell for just a few hours more…but, well a few less hours of sleep won't _kill _me.

I hope.

She's yanked on another T-shirt by the time that she allows me to look at her again. I notice, vaguely, that it features a large cross-eyed green creature, that, knowing her must be a frog.

"Come on…" She smiles, and I follow her out of the door.

………………………..

Well, on the upside (the very slight upside) at least she seems to be excited about me running around with her. She bounces along next to me, telling me in an overly happy voice that she's _certain that I'll love jogging_, and that _it's actually fun_.

Had I had more sleep last night, I may have been convinced to play along. But I haven't, so I just nod and grunt occasionally. Staring at the other closed dorm rooms on our way down the stairs with absolute longing…

"Oh wait…" We're in the hall now, where outside, through the foggy glass doors I can see them, all three of them, waiting for her.

"I forgot my water…" she bites her lip, so damn adorable…"I'll have to go get it. It'll only take a second." And she's already up the stairs.

Which is fine, absolutely fine. A more than oppertune moment to introduce myself to her "friends".

………………………..

Well, Will was right about one thing. They are all sixteen.

It's _freezing _outside, being the middle of Febuary, and yet, two of these three have decided that it is in their best interests to not wear shirts during their little practice session. Right. The third one is now currently stuffing his face with some sort of fried meat, the grease on his cheeks and chin is challenged only by the grease in his hair.

And the smell…like embalming oils…

_Will, Will, Will, when will you learn?_

"She wants me." I hear one of them saying to his friends in the typical arrogant earth boy drawl. "Obviously, did you see her last Saturday?"

"Jason, this girl is a fox. Why in the blue hell would she want _you_?"

_Yes, Jason, why would she? _

"Because…"

"Look whatever, _if_ she really does. And I mean _if_, you've got to tell us if she's a natural red when you finally tap that…"

Well that's about it. Resisting the urge to simply snap their scrawny necks, I walk towards them. They don't notice, that's all right. Will keeps reminding me that there are laws and punishments for doing those things here.

They continue on with their little conversation for a while, and really, it's a strange experience to have to listen to three snot nosed boys describe (in their loudest of voices) to everyone near them the shape of your girlfriend's…derrier.

But, soon their attention drifts over to me.

_Finally._

"What are you standing around here for?" One of them questions.

I shrug. Really, this isn't even _remotely _amusing to me. "You know that girl you're waiting for."

"Yeah." Another one squints at me, "what, are you her cousin or something?"

"No, I'm her boyfirend." Not the reaction that I expected, perhaps, the reaction that I wanted, but still, the fact that none of them even flinches…

"So what," Jason, who I've now deemed to be the ring leader here, stands below me by at least a foot. "What? Are you here to tell us that we can't go running with her anymore?"

"No," I stare down at him, wishing to God in heaven that he'd simply implode, but no, he remains intact. "You can run. But of course, only if your running doesn't include you touching her, talking to her or, and here'a a very important one, don't you dare_ look_ at her."

"What's your problem…"

"I don't have a problem. You however, you might. You see, if I catch you even _thinking_ about looking at her again, well, I might be tempted to pull your intestines out through your throat and see, finally, if they really are as long as people claim."

"You wouldn't…"

"Well, not now I wouldn't. But after a while, I might become…_inspired_. You see, Will has this little tendancy to believe what people tell her…that's why she has me...to make sure that they tell her the truth. You understand?"

That did it. Visions of hormal satisfaction currently bainished from their sex deprived minds, they took off.

Well, what did you know, they _were _actually pretty fast.

………………………..

"Hey, where are they going?"

Will is back, her bottle in hand, her eyes are pulling double duty, attempting to inspect both me and the sidewalk at the same time.

"What did you do to them?"

"Me?" I nearly gasp with shock. "Nothing."

"Caleb you said that you'd behave."

"And I did. I was just…introducing myself and they ran off. I guess that they were just intimidated."

"Right. And what did you say to them exactly?"

"What, you don't believe that I'm imtimidating?"

"No, actually I don't."

"Now that stung Vandom."

"You suck." She rolls her eyes at me. "And after you promised me that you'd behave yourself. You go and chase away my running partners. Now, who am I going to run with? You?"

"I don't run Will. I'll just watch you…"

"It's not a spectator sport."

"All right fine…where around there?" I point to the park, "what _all the way_ around there?"

"Fine, fine. I'll go by myself. Even though you said that you would."

I watch her as she sprints across the street into the park, I watch as her messy ponytail bobs along with her. Feeling…quite satisfied at least, that she's safe for now.

………………………..

**Author: You should know that my spell check seems to be broken, so forgive any errors, I really did my best at editing…(gulp) manually.**

Well, the lyrics are of course, the offical "Matt is a stalker" song. Oh well.

I thought that this was funny, and it was fun to write, it came to me a lunch today. It's based on that episode when Caleb walks Will home in the snow, I always figured that he'd be the over-protective type. I dunno.

Thanks to Zadien, HA, and my favorite faerie for their continued support. Reviews don't bug me much honestly, but yours are always anticipated.

**Next:** W is for **Worthy**.


	16. Unspoken

**Unspoken**

**By Seniya**

_'Cause I'm feeling lost  
When I'm in your arms  
The reasons are gone  
For why I was holding on to you  
I tried so hard  
To be the one  
I don't like who I've become_

_Mouth Shut by The Veronicas_

The sun called out to the weeping sky, urging, begging, pleading for it to follow, come along, far past the shadows of the horizon, because it's lonely in the darkness. Few, precious few can survive after the death of day. And even the sun fears solitude…

Mistress sky is not so sympathetic, she has the children of the earth to mind, and they are troublesome without her watchful gaze. She lowers her eyes in shame, gently, tenderly almost refusing the sun's invitation; darkness follows, lonesomeness visits, and the world pauses in that delicate time before the dusk.

……………………………

The winds were warm, dry, and humid—the sun was long, hot, and smoldering. It rained torment and near suffering upon the exposed necks of Meridian's army…and it rained, rained, without reprieve, for hours upon hours; whilst their one, sole salvation; the Captain, watched with stoic eyes as they withered beneath the heat.

The complaints were many, this was the seventh day straight with this sort of behavior…indeed, today the number outside was substantially less than the number eight days prior. And so the Queen, out of concern for her country's defenses as well as concern for one of her closest friends, dared to question the motives of the Captain one evening, knowing that she could postpone it no longer, seeing as several men had collapsed upon the training field that very day.

Now, the _women _were complaining.

And as any good ruler knows, a war started by women is far, far harder to end than a war formed by the hands of men.

……………………………

He stood; erect, still, arms folded across his chest, and his face, was as hard and as still as the rest of him. She walked cautiously, (for all her years of being Queen she had somehow managed to retain the awkwardness of her teen years). She chose her words carefully, placing into them, just the right combination of authority and kindness, of ruler and friend.

"You know Caleb…if you need to talk about this…" He seemed to have to tear his eyes away from the scene before him (men, crawling, gasping, falling), but he did, and for a single instant, she watched him as he watched her.

"Talk? About what?" He seemed uninterested, and soon he'd returned to attention to the world that played out before him.

_Men!_ At least _women_ talked! But men, they had to _hide_ their feelings, they had to remain brave and bold and proud. Everyone knew that he and Will were over, everyone knew that she had left him or something, and everyone knew that he was taking it out on anyone that he could—mainly his troops. "Well, you know…err…it's just that you've been drilling the guys awfully hard today…and well, Almere collapsed…twice and Icarius wasn't always that color."

Almere was a whiner, and Icarius was never the right color. But she didn't want to bring up the fact that Kelvin, Jacobin and Lucidius (each one a Corporal) had also fallen victim to this torture—no, this needed to be handled delicately. "You're too soft on them Elyon. What, so you think that in wars they'll have breaks?"

"I really don't think that they'll need to run around with rocks on their backs in wars either." And they both watched, well he watched, she gasped with a mixture of shock and unease as Grelin also fell, immobile, onto the grassy plain.

"It's good discipline."

No, no it wasn't…what, did he plan to kill them all? Swallowing her harsher words, she tried to reason with him again. "I'm sure that it is…but…look Caleb, I'm the Queen here and I won't let you kill my troops because you're having _girlfriend_ problems."

His eyes had found hers even before the word _girlfriend_ had left her lips, and she found herself chilled, ice cold, in this scorching weather. "…Or so I've heard."

"I'm not having _problems_." He explained, quite calmly in fact, but she could see that small muscle in his jaw trembling. And before them, yet another man succumb to the agony of the sunlight.

"Good, then let them come inside…they haven't eaten all day." Caleb turned away, she could feel the warmth in her arms returning, and for the first time in days she found herself grateful for the heat.

"There's still some sun left…" He mentioned, but she could already feel him losing interest. Now that he knew that everyone, (and she did mean everyone, seeing as one of the chimney sweeps had whispered this news to her only this morning) knew the truth, he'd want to conserve as much as his pride as possible.

If it was one thing that she could count on, that was Caleb's untiring pride.

"Caleb look, either you do it now, or you do it when fifty angry wives come to attack you." Elyon stated matter-of-factly, then she turned away, quite proud of how she had handled the situation, however, when he didn't reply, she found that she was forced to utter, "Your choice."

Only then did she hear what was in her opinion, his version of acquiesce.

"Fine."

………………………………

Gossip, like water flowing downhill, moves quickly. Impossibly quick in fact, with the mouths of women (and men) as its raft…over bumps and ridges, until it is still and calm, pooling in the ears of another.

"They broke up? Are you serious?" Haylin's brown eyes widened to an unprecedented size, afterwards her mouth fell open in a kind of lopsided circle.

"See, I told you that they would." Cornelia looked up from the mobile phone in her hands, pausing, if only for a second, from texting her boyfriend, to rub it in everyone's face that yes, she had been right…_again_.

"Corny, you told us that like, two years ago, it's null and void now…no bragging rights for you." Irma waved away the blonde's last comment, gladly moving onto to answer Haylin's next question: "But why?"

"I dunno…but Will's really broken up about it…she's looking a bit…um…"

Cornelia was never one to be shut up—especially not by Irma…"Haggard? Forlorn? Homeless?" She clicked her phone shut, looking at the two girls with one eyebrow raised, as though challenging them to dispute her descriptions. "Let's not mince words here people, she looks like crap."

"She's going out tonight anyway." Irma, far too absorbed in this latest bit of news to initiate a fight with even Cornelia, continued talking to Haylin as if the blonde hadn't spoken at all. "Sarah Welch asked her to go with her to see a movie, and I convinced her to say yes. It's just not healthy to stay cooped up like that."

"Why did they break up anyway? From what I heard, Elyon said that Caleb's murderous." Cornelia spoke again, to no one in particular, simply to make it known to Irma that she was far more informed in this matter than _she _was.

"They're so ridiculous…" Haylin breathed, slowly coming to the realization that she was, indeed the last one to find out about this…

"I think that Will mumbled something about it being hard with College and stuff," Irma mumbled, "…then she started sulking and I couldn't get anything out of her."

"This Meridian thing again?" The Asian shook her head, looking at the algebra scattered out before her with a sort of disinterest not uncommon to this type of situation.

"Tsk tsk…" Cornelia clicked her tongue, "She should have learned that long distance relationships…"

"Which College is she going to again?" Irma looked to Haylin for the answer.

"Trent…it's really far away." She chirped; excited to finally know something that the others didn't.

"Ouch." Even Cornelia seemed to feel that one.

"Oh joy, freaking joy!" Six eyes turned at once to meet Taranee's livid cinnamon orbs, "At least Will can get into college, but with you guys yapping and yapping all I can hope for is a mail order degree from out of a _Victoria's Secret_ catalogue! Aren't we supposed to be studying?" She was practically foaming at the mouth.

"Kill joy." Cornelia teased.

"What the hell are you doing here anyway? Didn't you already do your SATs?"

The older girl's face reddened at once with indignation…"as a matter of fact," Another rant was looming, suddenly; Algebra seemed much, much more interesting…

……………………………..

Will found, that contrary to popular belief, chocolate was _not _a cure-all device for depression. Rather, it just made the situation worse…because it reminded her of the time that he had brought her this _thing_ that the Meridian people called chocolate…but really tasted like refined mud…it had been Valentine's Day and…

She tried to sink even father into the sofa cushions, but to no avail…

This was for the best, she reminded herself. They both needed to move on; it wasn't fair to drag it out…

She was supposed to be going somewhere tonight wasn't she? Probably…she couldn't remember. Her mother wasn't home, every other teenager's dream to be home alone on a Saturday…but she couldn't wrap her mind around the possibilities. And so she stayed alone in the darkness watching _Casablanca_, because those people were just as miserable as she was…

And where was her pizza anyway? She'd ordered it at least an hour ago…well they most certainly weren't getting a tip.

……………………………..

A slow, steady pounding at her apartment door awakened her from her stupor. _Finally_, brushing several chocolate bar wrappers from her legs, she shuffled across the carpet to the door, pulling it open…only to wish that she had stayed put.

Her stomach, chocolate covered as it was, sank to her knees; the door knob in her hand grew heavy, felt cold and warm all at the same time—and damp, that couldn't be forgotten either, her hands were sweating.

"Caleb…I…" She avoided his gaze, rather, staring at her woe-be-gone slippers, falling apart at the seams…she was immediately conscious of the state of her uncombed hair and the pajamas that she was wearing…clothes that she imagined were at least seven years old.

"Is this how you lock a door? Anyone could get in here…you need to…" He brushed past her…she let him…her entire body was numb until she felt his arms upon her shoulders, her heart swelled, choking her—then, he pulled the knob away from her grasp, turning and closing the multiple bolts and locks that her mother had installed years ago when a so called serial rapist had been on the prowl, "…see that's how you lock a door."

"What…are you…" She recognized that she was alone with him…her heart shuddered, her mouth went dry.

"We're still friends…aren't we, I mean, I thought that…" He stammered and whispered, his discourse mimicked the pauses in her pounding blood—and still she couldn't see him, although sometimes, the light from the street caught in his eyes…warming her entirely.

"I can't do this." He concluded, and she noticed that she was shaking her head violently, forcing herself to disagree.

"You should go…I have…to go out soon and…and you shouldn't be here…" Now, it was her turn to stammer and whisper, he turned to watch her…he moved to touch her, and she tried to pull away, but she couldn't for the door was in her path.

"I miss you." He admitted…and yes, she missed him too.

"I'm not allowed to have boys over, you know that…and when my Mom comes home…I won't be able to explain why you're here…"

"Don't do this to us…to me. Please." _I'm sorry_, she wanted to blurt out and cry and sob into his chest, he'd hold her, he'd kiss her and love her—but she couldn't be so selfish…

"Caleb…"

"Anything you want…I swear, anything, just…don't leave me…I'm miserable without you." He'd kissed her by now, over and over atop of her forehead; on top of her hair…she raised her head, parted her lips…then closed them, whispering what she needed to be true…for both their sakes. "It _can't _work. It was hard enough as it was…but this…"

"We can try…at least." His breath was on her face, his hands on her neck…she needed him so much…

"Do you really want to go through that? What if it doesn't work, then what? We'll just go through this for nothing." She was moving away from the door—he wasn't pulling her, she was simply moving with her heavy feet, until, finally she was wrapped safely in his arms. Acceptance; simple.

"This isn't _nothing_," she heard his voice before his lips came crashing down upon hers, she curved into his embrace, kissing him like he was kissing her…

And outside, the sun met with sky, and the darkness descended, and suddenly, oh so suddenly, the night didn't seem so lonely to the world anymore.

……………………………..

**Author:** I'm sick now. I don't want you guys to worry, but it's bad. Not cough cough, I have a cold sick…I might have to get an operation within the next few months. Um, yeah...bypass is the word of the month. Never pinned myself for heart problems. Well essentially, my heart is simply fucked. One of my fancy smancy arteries is too small and I have to get myself chopped up to fix it or else I'll keel over by thirty.

I don't know what else to say, I just figured that you guys should know. Because, well I'm scared right now, because I know that people die in operations, especially during the one that I might have to get…and well, if I suddenly disappear, well you'll know that I'm dancing with Elvis on the other side of the pearly gates. It's strange you know, how life changes. I was just on the phone with my best friend Catherine, we were talking about our hatred for those "skinny jeans" and then my mother tells me that the doctor called…and well…well, what do you do?

I write when I'm upset. Hence I wrote this because I can't be expected to update ATP in my current mental state. Pray for me guys.

XOXOXOXOXOXO


	17. Cookies

**Atonement**

**By Seniya**

Cookies

_But my friends keep telling me to give it up  
Saying I'm too young, I ought to live it up  
What I need right now is some good advice, please_

_Papa don't preach, I'm in trouble deep  
Papa don't preach, I've been losing sleep  
But I made up my mind, I'm keeping my baby, oh  
I'm gonna keep my baby…_

_Papa Don't Preach By Madonna_

"Why thank you Wilma," Irma wrapped the long string of gum around her finger whilst peering at her friend through the corner of her oversized sunglasses. "For driving me twenty miles away from civilization so that you can buy…what sells across the street…Am I making sense?"

"Stop complaining…you volunteered." Will snapped distractedly, far too tired of hearing the brunette's long list of complaints to tolerate her for much longer—in any case, she needed to keep her eyes on the road.

"As if I had a choice. Hay Lin joined the school band…the school band. Say it with me, _school band_…God it even sounds nerdy. I can already feel myself growing a pocket protector."

"What about Taranee?"

"Are you serious? The girl's gone completely _Mommy Dearest_ on me, some guy told her that the more work that she did in senior year, the less she'd have to do in the first year of college. She's attached to that book place…the one next to the arcade?"

"The library?" Will rolled her eyes, signaling to turn into the parking lot of the supermarket.

"Yeah, yeah that." She propped her feet on the head board, grinning all the while. "So…you and Caleb finally, and I do mean _finally_ decided to get nasty huh?"

"I was gonna say that you lied about not knowing where the library was but obviously, you were telling the truth…you and your wonderful vocabulary."

"Okay, yeah whatever, but seriously, what took you guys so long?"

"Irma I am not having this conversation…" Even through the harsh shadows of the pre sunset, the younger girl could see the blush that caked Will's freckled cheeks.

"Fine, be all secretive…park here…you're missing all the good spaces!"

"Stop touching the wheel! I can't take you anywhere you know…and this is why."

"I'm being very well behaved, you sound like my mom…oh wait no, you sound like my mom after she's had a sex change operation and then had to spend the night alone with Cornelia…and they shared a bed. Oh, and underwear."

"I swear that I will never meet someone as messed up as you."

"Thank you dahling, I do try to be eccentric for you…especially considering that your man toy is such a total…" she faltered under Will's curious eyes. Cornelia would have melted her with her bitch vision, Taranee might have lectured her on the several ways that gum could lead to stomach complications…but Will, poor thing, could only look helpless. She took pity, "freak. Completely bewitched behind you. He's spoiling you, you know. I have to keep you in line."

"By making me wonder why you're not institutionalized yet?"

"Oh, very good…that's gratitude." She began to straighten her favorite pair of jeans as Will turned off the engine of her red Jeep—they were a bit too tight, the jeans that is…well, honestly they'd never fit, but hell, her butt had never looked better, and sacrifices should be made.

"Are you ready Freckles? Once you enter the world of adult contraceptives there's no going back."

"Uh huh…" Will loosened her hair from the untidy ponytail that she had adopted a few years ago, running her fingers through the untidy red mane, hair that yearned, and she didn't want to be a Cornelia here, but wow, just some sort of conditioner…

"What are you looking around for? Gasp, do you think that the condom police tailed us here? Because hot damn I forgot to pay my taxes!"

"Irma…okay, fine, let's just go…" she shoved open her door, and waited, biting her lips and tapping her sneakers against the asphalt for Irma to do the same.

"You really are freaking out about this."

"Well, I mean…I've never really done this before, and it's sorta…embarrassing." She looked away, gazing unseeing at the Mother across the lot who was scolding her daughter.

"Everyone does it Will, and you'll learn that you just wasted gas money driving here because I'm sure that as lame as Trent is, they sell them there. You could have gotten them before you came home…or here's the kicker, you could have gotten them from the drug store across the street from your apartment."

"Ah, but then I would have missed your forty-five minutes of constant complaining, and what a travesty that would be."

"Ha ha. But in my defense, it would have been thirty minutes if only you'd learn to use that little button called the gas…"

"I'm beginning to regret bringing you here."

"That hurt Freckles. I mean, who else where you going to get? Cornelia would maul your ass if she knew."

"No she wouldn't. It's been like what, four years?"

"So? She was smitten. And you never forget your first love. Ever. Like how I've never forgotten Joseph LaDaugh…that God of a man…pity that his record label dropped him. And besides, don't you ever think about Matt?"

"Not like how you mean…"

"Are you serious? You need to behave more normal, and watch Lifetime. God, in thirty years after you've gotten out of jail for a murder that you didn't commit, you'll turn to his recently divorced shoulder, and the rest…oh la la, is cinema history."

"Oh look we're here." Will announced, walking straight through the automatic doors, as though that should conclude Irma's ridiculous interjections.

It didn't. "Who do you think should play you? I'll be your deaf best friend who works as a stripper but is really an undiscovered singing sensation. And I want _Whitney Houston_ to play me."

"How am I supposed to buy these?" She had lowered her voice to a whisper now, carefully avoiding the faces of the ten or so other customers. So _that's why_ she had chosen here…no one was ever going to spot them out here.

"You see Will, it's simple," Irma, in pure jest, dropped her voice as well, "you go into the aisle, pick up the box and then…here's the tough part, you pay for it. Do you need me to use smaller words Freckles?"

"I'm fine," rolling her eyes and muttering under her breath, she grabbed a basket from the pile nearby.

"What are you going to do with that?" Irma ran along behind her, "are you this confused? They really aren't that big…"

"I know that…I just want some cookies too, that's all."

As if to prove her point she dropped three packages of chocolate chip into her basket. "Uh huh," Irma chomped on her gum thoughtfully, "hey, can I get some _Pringles_? And some new gum…this one is kinda stale."

"Huh? Oh yeah yeah, whatever you want."

"And cupcakes?"

Will turned to face her, "you're not taking this seriously are you?"

"I'm supposed to?" She pressed her lips into a thin line in order to stifle the giggles. It didn't help, Will noticed.

"It isn't funny."

"I…know…you're missing the face paint and giant shoes for it to be truly hilarious."

"Whatever…new plan. Let's just get them and go…where are they anyway?"

"Over there…under the sign…"

Will mumbled something indiscernible and then stomped off, Irma however, grabbed two packs of gum from a nearby box before chasing after her.

……………………………

She was buying razors when she found her again.

"You know Will…"

"I know, just which one do I get?" She was chewing on her lip now; Irma began to worry that she might cut the skin…

"Gum?"

"No…help, that's what I want from you."

"Oh, well…um, what size do you want?"

"They're different sizes?"

"Oh yeah…different flavors too. And what's this I see…scented?"

"I don't know what size…you know…he…you know…"

"You didn't ask?"

She shook her head and muttered a slight "no".

"Are you this embarrassed? Even with him?" Irma ripped open a pack of gum and shoved a piece into her mouth with the other one. "God, I don't know what you're gonna do when you two actually get around to it…you know what, mystery solved, I see now why it took so long."

"You're not helping you know."

The redhead again, looked so vulnerable that Irma could tease her no longer. "All right babe, I'm sorry. Really, I'll try to be better."

She turned to face the massive display. "Um, okay—well, he had big feet right?"

"What?"

"Does he have big feet? It's the best I got."

"I…guess that they're…big…but what does this have to do with anything?"

"You don't know what they say about men with big feet?"

"No…but hey, you know, if I go up to the cashier with all this food and…you know…those…then she'll think that I'm some sort of freak…"

"She'd be right…oh right, yeah, no, no, don't think that."

"Maybe I should just leave…we've waited this long…"

"Can I help you two?" Both girls turned, well, Will jumped, squeaked and then turned to face a short, stout elderly woman, with the name "Mary" embroidered on a jacket.

"No, no, you can't. I'm sorry for bothering you…but we were just…"

"Actually," Irma grabbed Will's fleeing wrist, holding her steady. "My friend and I want to purchase some condoms but well, she's a little new to this, so she doesn't know what kind would be best for her."

"Oh, is she a virgin?"

"Yes, it's written all over her face isn't it? She doesn't know size, anything."

"Well, perhaps the young man should come here to purchase them for himself. In my day if we were going to do the horizontal polka the man would take charge." She raised her bangle laden hand in triumph apparently.

Irma joined in, "Hell yeah! But he's a little…unable to do that. So it's up to her…well me, and you maybe."

"Yes, I understand, how tall is he then."

"Um," Irma released Will hand, ignoring the girl's deathly pale face and shivering lips, she raised her hand above her head, "he's like what, six three…maybe I dunno…pretty tall. Don't even ask her shoe size though."

"Well then," Mary chirped strolling over to the multitudes of florescent boxes and pulling down a hot pink number, "well these should work. They stretch you know."

"Really?" Irma grabbed the box as though they might be the holy grail, "did you hear that Will? These ones stretch!"

But Will had already turned and left, grabbing several boxes as she did, marching off towards the cashier without a backwards glance.

"Will?" Irma, once again, began to run after her.

Will dropped everything, cookies, condoms, razors and all onto the counter; trying, though failing to ignore the woman's confused look. Finally, she could bear it no longer. "All right, yes, fine, fine! I am buying condoms, why? Because I want to have sex with my boyfriend, how was I supposed to know that it would be the single most embarrassing event of my life?"

"Just cash those, please, she's having a rough day…oh and this gum too."

……………………………

They were able to walk away unscathed, although Will, unused to outburst of any kind, was significantly more sulky on the slow stroll back to the Jeep.

"Are you okay sweetie?" Irma wrapped a hand about her friend's narrow shoulders.

"Fine, just fine. At least it's far away right?"

"Yeah…hey, I was just joking you know? I really think that you and Caleb are cute. Dorky cute, you know?"

Will smiled a bit, "yeah I know Irma, you mean well."

"See, this is why I love you. There isn't a spiteful bone in your body! Except for maybe that Matt thing…"

"What do you mean? I still talk to him when I can."

"Yeah, but you don't miss him or anything?"

"Not…exactly."

"See, weird, weird."

"He wasn't my first love." She shrugged, blushing slightly as she uttered the words, "I guess that that's probably why."

"Oh…"

They climbed into the Jeep in silence, sweet, thoughtful silence, well, until Irma found the pressing need to rant about _emos_. "I mean what the hell?"

……………………………

**Author:** Thanks for all your prayers and words of concern. I'm feeling rather embarrassed now because I sorta wrote that author note/story the instant that my mother told me what the doctor said, so basically that was just what had crossed my mind then…and God, later when we went to his office he scared me completely by showing me the picture of my heart and then showing me a "normal" heart. Yeah, I was very freaked out, but I'm better now.

Shit happens, you learn from it, you grow. I thank you though, it feels really good to know how much you love me…or at least my stories. :)

NEXT: N is for Nervous


	18. Nervous

**Atonement**

**By Seniya**

Nervous

_Your love is magical, that's how I feel  
But I have not the words here to explain  
Gone is the grace for expressions of passion  
But there are worlds and worlds of ways to explain  
To tell you how I feel  
But I am speechless, speechless  
That's how you make me feel_

_Speechless By Michael Jackson_

She hadn't spoken a word to him since he'd arrived here, usually; she'd have at least complained about the chilly autumn breeze or commented on the muddy evening skies, but not today. He hadn't minded, really the silence was a welcome change from the heated arguments and frustrated breaths that had been growing more frequent over the past few weeks.

From the corner of his eye he watched as she tugged at her long blonde hair, the glossy strands caught and held the few remaining rays of the day, although she seemed oblivious. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat before releasing a long withheld sigh.

"It's getting late." She offered at last.

It was a conversation that wasn't meant for his ears, he was certain, in fact as she continued on about having to study he felt like an outsider looking in at her life from the opposite side of the world—not the bench.

She stood up, granting him a hasty peck on the cheek by means of goodbye. He watched as her narrow form, made significantly larger due to her thick overcoat, retreated, winding through people and trees alike until she merged with the darkness and mists.

It would be over soon, he knew that…despite his lack of experience with these personal relationships and women on the whole, he was certain that this—what was left of it at least—was drawing to a close.

Left to his ponderings in the company of stagnant sun, he allowed his mind to run, on images of the past, of the future—on a longing and sadness that his heart couldn't seem to conjure up…

"Caleb?"

Thoughts broken, serenity shattered, his eyes flew to the owner of the voice, "Oh, hi Will."

She was smiling, a wide friendly grin that brightened most of her face, her hair was wild, askew and tangled and she was dragging a massive duffle bag in her wake. She was a sight, and he couldn't help but to smile as well.

"What are you doing here?" Taking his smile as an invitation she joined him on the bench, tapping her sneakers on the pavement in a strange erratic rhythm. He didn't mind.

"I was just thinking—enjoying the _quiet_." He pressed teasingly.

"You looked bored." She shrugged.

"And you decided to change that?"

"If you were a bit nicer, I could tell you a really funny _knock-knock_ joke that Haylin told me."

"Haylin's not funny…_disillusioned _maybe…"

"I beg to differ, knock-knock."

"What?"

"Say who's there?"

"No."

She laughed, "come on Caleb it's funny."

He sighed, "who's there?"

"Bless."

He stared blankly at her, she whispered, "say bless who."

"Bless who."

"Why I didn't sneeze."

The blank look didn't change, "wow, you're a tough one." She began to laugh again.

"That is not a joke…it's not even remotely humorous…what's a knock-knock anyway?"

"Ah forget it," She got to her feet and adjusted her jacket, while reaching for the strap of her duffle she said, "you're my good turn for the day. I'm going home."

She had begun to prance along before he called her back, moving to his feet as well, "where did you just come from?"

"Swimming," she stated, "practice ran late…"

"You're going home by yourself?"

"Yeah." She shoved her hands into the pockets of her jeans, looking at him as though he was very strange indeed.

"I'll walk you."

"No, you won't."

"Why…"

"It's really far away from Haylin's house…we moved remember, besides I walk myself home everyday without incident." She turned on her heel and stomped along the path, he followed.

When she noticed she rolled her eyes but didn't say anything for a while, before mentioning, "I saw Cornelia when I was coming here—were you here with her?"

"Yeah."

"Oh."

He watched her rumpled head from out of the edge of his eye, "can I ask you something."

"I guess…"

"You and that music boy…"

"Matt? When are you going to learn people's names?"

"I know it…I just…forgot it…temporarily…but you two, you're still…with each…"

"Yes Caleb, we are." The words were almost embarrassing to hear coming from him.

"Are you sure?"

"What…" she stopped in her tracks and stared at him with a look of pure confusion etched onto her features.

"I mean…when two people aren't together anymore…how…how do you know?"

"Caleb?" Her mouth fell open and her eyes glanced nervously around the park. "Well, I mean…they usually tell each other—you know, they break up."

"I…" he felt uncomfortable due to look of concern mixed with sympathy in her eyes, so he decided to end this conversation now, it had been foolish to ask her in any case. He should have simply asked one of the others…Will had always been different.

But…well, it made no sense trying to search for answers within the pea soup that was Haylin's mind, none of the other girls would do as a matter of fact—they all had this uncanny habit of prattling even the most minute details to each other, and no, he most certainly couldn't tell Cornelia this. Even in his confusion mingled with ignorance he knew that she wouldn't take this bit of news well…and he most certainly didn't wish to upset her.

"Look Caleb," She reached across the space separating them to touch his hand with her gloved one, "I'm sure that…you two will work it out." She smiled again, and he felt his heart jump…the place where she was touching him exploded with heat suddenly, he couldn't tear himself away.

"Sure," he swallowed, watching as she looked at him with genuine happiness.

"Of course you will, you two are…you're…good together." She pulled her hand away, but the heat didn't leave with her.

"Err…thanks…I guess." He managed, forcing himself to look away…why had he never realized just how stunning she was, even with her hair like that and her clothes wrinkled and…oh God, something within him stilled.

She turned away from him, walking along the semi deserted path, before realizing that he hadn't followed her, "aren't you coming?"

"No…you're...fine on your own…"

"Caleb, trust me," obviously miscalculating his behavior for worry, she tried to placate him again, "you'll be fine."

"I know." He repeated, and then with a sudden pang of surprise he realized that he somehow believed her.

She turned away then, duffle in tow, and he watched her until she too faded into the evening mists.

* * *

**Author:** I'm really enjoyed this over protective Caleb thing. SMEXY! I wrote this pretty fast, although I'm about 90 certain that FF's alerts things aren't working, AGAIN, so noone will read this. Ah well.

Hail Michael Jackson, confession time people, I am the number one Michael Jackson fangirl. I don't care that his nose fell off…or whatever, he is the most talented sexy (black or white music video) artist in the world! Anyway that song had nothing to do with the plot, but what kind of MJ fangirl would I be if I didn't include a single song in my fic?

Has anyone else noticed that after a week's break the sissies are back and stronger than ever? They're like roaches…never mind, I'm gonna write chapter…next, twenty-one I think for ATP next week, but I don't know when it will be up. I have 3 or so paragraphs for it so far…


	19. Invincible

**Atonement**

**By Seniya**

Invincible

_Sticks and stones won't break my soul  
Get out of the way, I'm invincible  
Throw them down  
'Cause the one you hurt's not around  
_

_Sticks And Stones By Aly and AJ_

"It's a bad storm," Will mumbled darkly into her pillow, and outside, seemingly in agreement to her whispered words, the midnight sky was torn asunder by the dizzying display of lights, and the earth herself begged for mercy whilst the heavens unleashed their unbridled rage through the sounds of dull, roaring cries.

She suppressed a whimper by biting her lip, then attempting to force herself even further into her coverings, beside her, he finally stirred, a silent, not to mention useless reply to her first comment, and stirring was essentially all that he did—he could sleep through anything. _She_ unfortunately wasn't so lucky.

The next shout of thunder seemed to have originated from in one of the many palace rooms above them—and her heart leapt to her throat when she heard it. Deciding then that being still was far more detrimental than walking around; she crawled from beneath the covers, and hesitantly, staggered over to the window.

Forcing her shaky hands to be steady, she peeled one of the heavy drapes back, watching with mute fascination as the dark clouds hid the more romantic aspects of the night—gone were the moon, veiled were the stars.

"What are you looking at?" She jumped backwards instinctively, the hairs on her neck and arms stood tall, erect, her heart thrashed as the fear attempted to smother it.

"Caleb!" She hissed, "you…what are you doing sneaking up on me…" she stilled beneath his humored gaze. "This isn't funny." The fabric fell from her hands.

"I never said that it was."

"Well…then…" Will could feel her face growing hotter, she pursed her lips, thinking of an intelligent remark to make, but could find none; so she did the next best thing and folded her arms atop of her chest and stared at her feet.

"Are you scared?" He asked, why, she wasn't sure, because he already knew the answer, and she made that clear to him in her next statement, "you know that…"

"I know," he whispered, his was voice low and comforting in the shadows, especially since they were accompanied by his arms, which covered hers as he went behind her to hold her body against his.

"I don't know why you always look outside though," his breath tickled her neck, and she could feel the rumble of his words as they passed through his chest—it felt nice. "I mean, if you're so scared…"

"Habit…" she mumbled sleepily, resting fully into his strong embrace.

"Are you going to come to bed now?"

"Yes…"

He led her back to bed then, slipping beneath the covers along with her, before tucking her small frame closer to his, wrapping his arms about her middle and trapping one of her legs between the both of his.

The winds outside blew cold blew loud, blew hard, the heavens sang, illuminating the world and the applause that followed was nearly deafening.

"C-Caleb…" she stammered, even through the panic she felt foolish and childish…she was fine she knew; she was safe…

"It's all right Will…"

She didn't believe him; her heart was making quite a fuss in her chest, struggling as the dread tried to strangle it…

"There is nothing to be afraid of." He reasoned, though the tiredness in his mind warned him to give it up as a bad case, the feel of her trembling arms beneath the covers made him wish that he could do more to alleviate her fears.

"Yes there is," she whimpered, "I-I want to go back home…sorry Caleb," she wrenched free of his grasp, "I'll make it up to you…I promise."

"You can't leave."

"Of course I can…" she was shaking, he could hear it in her voice. "…You can come _with_ me."

"You could stay."

"It's…not an option. Home is good right now…I watched the news before I came here…fair to partly cloudy."

"What about face your fears?" he sat up to watch her search for her shoes, he'd never seen her this frightened before…perplexing, really, she could face twelve foot snakes at thirteen but she was afraid of a little thunder?

He wasn't worried that she'd leave; the only way that she could leave was if she found Elyon, which would require her leaving his chambers to look for hers…an entirely unlikely feat since he knew that she didn't want anyone to know that she was spending the night with him.

"I-I…" she stilled, the rain had started outside, and she seemed relieved, "the rain makes the thunder stop." Will breathed.

That was the worst logic that he'd ever heard, but he didn't question it, she at least seemed very satisfied and climbed back into bed. He wasn't one to complain.

"Storms are worse here." She explained to him through a yawn.

He pulled her closer against him, allowing the quiet hum of her voice and the rain to lull him to sleep.

"Aren't you afraid of anything?"

"No…"

"Oh, please Caleb."

He searched his mind, dredging up one very dusty, very repressed memory. "All right, when I was _younger_…I hated…spiders."

"You were afraid of spiders?"

"No, Will, _women_ are afraid of spiders, men hate them."

"Oh…I see. It's nice to now that you were a man even at ten."

"Exactly."

"How did you get to be afraid of something like a spider?"

"I was not afraid. You shouldn't be laughing you know, you're no better."

"We're both cowards." She laughed; he felt her shoulders quake, "seriously, how?"

"I don't want to talk about…"

"What, did you find one in your hair?"

"Those things grow up to nine feet in the Bridsyla Caverns," he defended, "think about seeing that at five."

"I bet that it scared the man right out of you…"

"Maybe you _should_ go home."

"What, you laugh at me all the time."

"I'm going to sleep now."

"Are you sulking?" She turned to face him, "aww, you are."

"Sleeping."

She pinched his nose, he grabbed her hand. She stuck out her tongue and he pulled her down to him for a kiss.

When they pulled apart she was breathless and shuddering for an entirely different reason. She stared into his eyes, mesmerized, thrilled, curious…and, something else, something that burned acidly at the back of her throat…something that she'd tried to silence for a very long time… "All right," her heart caught suddenly but she suppressed the thought, "I'll go to sleep."

She curled into place beside him and closed her eyes. His arms drifted over her waist, and they both remained silent…neither one could fall asleep now however.

* * *

**Author:** What the hell did I just write? Ah, who cares? It's pretty smexy me thinks, sleepovers, heh. You think what you want. I find scaredy Will adorable, I too am afraid of thunder, and I know, blah blah blah, that lightning is her element and what's not, but this was too good to pass up.

I got accepted into college y'all. Got the letter yesterday, high school can now officially kiss my spotty yellow arse!

Review please.


	20. You

Atonement

By Seniya

You

_Suppose I never, ever met you  
Suppose we never fell in love  
Suppose I never, ever let you, kiss me so sweet and so soft  
Suppose I never, ever saw you  
Suppose you never, ever called  
Suppose I kept on singing love songs just to break my own fall_

_Fidelity By Regina Skeptor_

He awakens due to the cramp in his neck, not because of the soreness in his shoulder, although, that's quite horrible as well. One of his legs is asleep he soon discovers, but that isn't so unbearable. As with all sleepy minds, it does take a good few seconds for the muddy puddle to become stagnant, for the dusty memories to sink to the bottom of the pool, and then another few minutes for him to realize that each and every stab of discomfort is coming from the same source.

She's half seated across his lap, her head buried in the crook of his shoulder, her arms fall across his body—as well as her legs, lost to the darkness of the night. He swallows then, feeling uncomfortable suddenly, you understand, in that moment when the blood pounds and the mind whispers. And so, remembering propriety, he tries to pull himself away, to move those arms and those legs, but he fails, for once, just once, she stirs in her slumber—and she is slumbering, he can hear, not to mention feel, her steady breathing—and so he ceases his efforts, he doesn't want to wake her.

And besides, he's trapped in this chair, too confined to escape, and really, this prison isn't so…horrible. He won't try to.

No, in fact, he rather enjoys the feeling of her hair on his skin; every so often she'll shift and stretch her legs and arms, only to return to a more comfortable position. He realizes then that he's never seen her asleep before, his loss really—but no, he shouldn't be seeing her now.

They'd been talking; he could remember that, she had been explaining to him something about her dormouse, it was sick, she'd been telling him about some remedy that she'd have to buy, he remembered relishing in the sounds of her voice, and he supposed, that she'd dozed off then—and he'd fallen asleep after her, he'd been tired…

She'd be in trouble, he knew, she was late for her…curfew…yes, and when she returned home, she'd be punished; she wouldn't be able to see him again for a long while…well, no sense in waking her now, if she was to be punished anyway, it made sense that he should enjoy their last few moments together…

His hands drift cautiously from his side, hesitating, second guessing, until finally, they settle on the curve of her hip. She doesn't move, doesn't notice, he feels safer then, with her curled up against him, like a cat, yes, with his arms around her, cradling her soft sleeping form against him.

She looks so vulnerable from his vantage point, the darkness covers her almost completely, save for the few fingers of moonlight that dear to kiss her nose and lips…

He moves his hand away from her side to shield her from the advances of the night…surely the light would disturb her…surely.

It doesn't, it wouldn't, probably…

He can't help it though, this protectiveness…this paranoia that lingers sometimes near jealousy…he has to be, he tells himself…for his own sake, more than hers. Because even after all of this time, he isn't certain what he did in this life to deserve her—she's perfect, although that's foolish to think, because somewhere inside of his foggy mind, he knows that perfection doesn't exist, but to him, after all that she's done to him—stolen his heart, his mind, his soul—she has to be as close to perfect as God, any God, could have envisioned.

What pains him is that she doesn't seem to know…if she did, then, he was certain that she'd find someone else…someone who was better than he was, who could dote upon her endlessly, who could romance her with sweet words and love her without dirtying her innocence.

He couldn't, he wouldn't even dare to…

He's not used to feeling inadequate, really, it is something that has ambushed him, he hadn't been expecting this, of all things…he lowers his head to kiss her softly on her hairline; she doesn't move then either, although he does feel the soft intake of breath.

Of course he won't dare to tell her these things, she'd be upset, strangely, she'd chastise him for thinking that way and then she'd feel guilty; she was like that—constantly blaming herself for others' unhappiness.

He loves her, and he is selfish for holding her back, for sheltering from the world…but it didn't matter, he needs her, he wants her…and perhaps, yes, she deserves much, much more…but he was determined to become that more. He wouldn't deprive her of all that she deserves, but he couldn't find the strength to deny himself either…

"Caleb?" her drowsy voice slithered through his thoughts, and, finding that he was suddenly very flushed, his mind struggled to find an adequate response. He is saved the work in the next few seconds, for she, realizing her current…location, jumps from his lap whilst muttering all the apologies that her mind could seem to churn out.

"What time is it?" Her voice is strangely high pitched; he smiles at the sound, going to his feet so that he can be nearer to her. "What day is it…Friday right…well, she won't mind if I don't have school…"

"I love you." He tells her, and she meets his eyes in a prolonged moment of utter shock.

"What?" A breath, a mere whisper, but he doesn't feel the need to be quiet, he's been thinking of it for a while, a very long while, but he'd never thought that he should…

"I love you." Repetition, hopefully, this time she'll understand…or at least stop staring; she looks as though she'll run away.

"C-Caleb…" she's blushing, he can tell even though she refuses to look at him, she seems confused, finally dissolving into stammers as she attempts to reply, "I…don't know what to…thank you…"

It's alright he thinks, he hadn't truly expected her to reply to him, and she's simply too adorable when she's flustered, and he feels that knot of tenderness grow…

"Will, you…"

He is silenced by the sudden, warm, delicious pressure of her lips on his, her fingers are in his hair and she's trembling. He wraps his arms about her waist dragging her further into the darkness, holding onto her as though she's all that he has in this whole entire world…

* * *

**Author:** Well, I've nothing of relevance to say, so I'll ramble. I ate too much and now I have a tummy ache. Owwie, this is actually a follow up to **Stay**, because someone (can't recall who) told me that Caleb was being mean, he isn't he's just afraid, and he covers it with arrogance. 


	21. Jealous

**Atonement**

**By Seniya**

Jealous

_Would you look at her  
She looks at me  
She's got me thinking about her constantly  
But she don't know how I feel  
And as she carries on without a doubt  
I wonder if she's figured out  
I'm crazy for this girl_

_**Crazy For This Girl By Evan & Jaron**_

The daylight fades, it beckons the sun to rest with whispers, _fall_, _come_, Lady Sun obeys. She sinks into that crack near the start of the horizon, and it is there that she remains trapped, oh dear, the stars laugh whilst Mistress Moon prepares her finest attire, she pauses—_what is that_?

Lady Sun fights, she struggles, she will not remain within this cage—yet, her cries are in vain, the earth is deaf, the winds are malicious, she falls silent, her arms curving upwards in one last attempt – success? No, destruction, her fingers catch in that great curtain above, setting it aflame, ashes to ashes.

Blue turns to black; _soot_; memories stretch across the canvas, dirtying the faces of all those who house there, _ashes_, _dust_, and then, Lady Sun becomes quiet.

The night has begun.

* * *

Her skin is like porcelain, her eyes like amber pools that pull me under within seconds, her hair is curled, ruby red tendrils knotted at her nape – and she is simply radiant. I swallow, unable to breathe – she bites her lip— 

Her eyes don't look at me, rather, one look at my face and she seems to falter, staring instead at her feet, the tips of her toes as she can see them from beneath the folds of her dark green dress. I notice the slight flush moving upwards from her neck—

"Will…" Words struggle, sentiments fade – confessions, rehearsed thoroughly for the past two weeks, now shrink away, hiding behind that shadow of nervousness that is tugging at my gut. "Y-You look…" Amazing, gorgeous – beautiful? No, all I manage is a breathy chuckle, one that she accepts with an easy smile.

"This is the third dress that I've ever worn in all my life." She states conversationally.

And I reply, as I feel that I must. Her voice – the melody of it, the graceful movements of her full, pink lips and the slight flash of teeth – I yearn for them all. "Well…I think that you should wear them more often. Dresses I mean…you look nice in your other clothes too…"

I'm fumbling, tumbling, falling, and yet she only smiles at my awkwardness, simply laughs at my frozen tongue. Somehow that makes the entire situation a great deal less strenuous.

"Are we going to the_ dance_ now Caleb?" She is so close now that I can drown in her. And that's all it is – drowning. Death as the flames of longing and ardor pour through my lungs and into my veins until – until I can scarcely breathe.

Will reaches for my hand then, her slim fingers wrap so tenderly about my own rougher ones – and she frowns. My hands must be shaking, and damp as well. But of course, how could she know of the miniscule velvet box, tucked safely in my pocket – the current location of my hopes and dreams.

"What's wrong Caleb? You've been acting…weird all night."

"Have I?" I feel the blood drain from my face – this isn't going according to my elaborate plans…plans in which I was always imagined as being smooth, suave and charming. Rather, now I've been transformed into a bumbling, clumsy boy – shivering as though he's in his first act of lovemaking.

"I-I…we should go down. They'll wonder where we are." And so I detach my hand from hers, forcing myself to ignore the manner in which her face breaks at the words. She nods mutely then, and I, equally soundless, smile back.

* * *

It isn't true of course, the halls are crowded, hundreds have descended upon the Palace tonight, but if she knows this small fact, she of course, keeps it to herself. 

She is silent throughout her entire journey down, walking by my side, matching my long, brisk strides effortlessly. Pausing only once to adjust the front of her elaborate dress. My hands ache to help her. To hold her and to kiss her until she feels as beautiful as she looks.

But, I don't, instead I announce our blatant arrival as though she's a small child under my care. And then I excuse myself for a drink, rushing away from her as though she's contagious – leaving her standing alone in this crowded room, watching me with blank eyes and a baffled face.

I only intend to be away from her for a few moments – truly, my absence is scarcely because I don't wish to be near her, no, rather it is from the slight annoyance of what her presence does to me still. It is necessary that I calm my chaotic mind. But of course, I've grown accustomed, five years is a terribly long time and just as terrible a teacher.

It isn't that I mind – no, understand simply my frustration for tonight. A night that I'll most certainly remember for as long as my life stretches out before me. Is it so wrong to crave perfection for this one evening? And no, perfection does not include my bumbling and stammering. She, at the very least deserves better than that.

* * *

By the time I've returned, she's already left – worry now, replaces my nervousness and I flutter about the corners of the room looking for her, an apology already heavy on my lips. Has she left already? 

No, she hasn't. She's on the swarming ballroom floor, smiling weakly at some young puppet that simply can't believe his luck. The look that covers her face is friendly; kind; but in the mind of an arrogant adolescent male, it can become so much more.

I'm by their side in less than five strides, and he upon seeing m, drops her hand and well as his, and begins to back away from her company, behaving as though I've caught him in the act of stealing some rare artifact rather than just dancing.

* * *

At the departure of her dancing partner she turns to face me, arms folded, her delightful little mouth twisted into a small frown. Her face is slightly pink and her eyes are brighter than I can remember seeing them. "What?" She whispers. 

And I take her wrist in my palm, pulling her with one hand whilst using the other to clear a pathway through the multitude of now disgruntled partygoers. I ignore both their shrieks as well as hers, stopping only when I have her alone on the balcony.

She, of course is furious. "What is wrong with you!" She makes no motion to look at me, only staring at the wall of people behind her, who in turn stare back.

The realization strikes me…_oh_…

"I…who was that boy?"

"What boy? _Him_? I don't know, he asked me to dance." She shrugs lightly before pressing her back against the smooth stone wall. "I didn't realize that I wasn't allowed."

"I thought that you didn't like dancing."

"Don't change the subject. If I want to dance then I should be able to without you pulling me around as though I'm five."

"I don't want you dancing with him. You should have seen how he was looking at you."

"So? He was in the middle of all those people, what would he have done? Stared me to death?"

"Stay out here with me."

Moments before she would have longed to do just that, but now, the only thing she wants to do is to infuriate him – hence dance.

"No. You were very rude to my dancing partner. I think that I'll go apologize to him."

"Will…wait." I move to block her path, she frowns and attempts to move around my body but I grab hold of her wrist.

"What is it? Do you want to chain me outside?"

"No…look, I'm sorry. About tonight…I apologize for ruining it for you."

She doesn't reply, and my throat, now suddenly dry, protests as I attempt to swallow my trepidation. "Do you forgive me?"

"No." She snaps, although I can tell that she doesn't mean it.

"You can dance with him if you want to. I'll wait until you're finished."

"You?" Now, she stares up at me, an incredulous look trapped on her face. "What about _boys only want one thing_?" Her pathetic imitation of my voice makes my lips curve upwards in a small smile; I release my grip on her hand.

"They do." And my eyes travel slowly along the front of her dress, "believe me, but…if you want to dance then…you should."

Her face has softened completely by now, and she edges forward slowly, ceasing only when she has my hands in her own. "You don't have to worry Caleb. Despite your numerous flaws," she laughs at my baffled expression, "You're the only one that I want."

She stands on her tiptoes to press a soft kiss on my lips. It is merely a whisper, a breath of air, a flutter of wings that leaves far too soon. "I want to dance with you…if you'd like."

"I love you Will." This wasn't supposed to be this way, there was supposed to be romance, the air was supposed to be heavy with the scent of flowers. I was supposed to be stronger, but I feel myself trembling again…it is impossible to control it.

"I love you more." She whispers, now placing a steady hand on my cheek before looking at me strangely. "Are you cold?"

"No…" I struggle for air…but my lungs, alas, are already full. "I want to ask you something."

"Caleb, you're scaring me."

"D-Don't be scared…it…it isn't really that important."

"What…" She doesn't believe my last statement, I can tell, but she is still smiling faintly at me, her eyes however urge me to melt.

"I've been thinking…about us recently. And I've decided…that I need you. Yes, that's it…I-I need you here with me, because I worry if you're not."

"You want me to move here?" She breathes heavily and relief momentarily, covers her face. "That might be a little easier said than done, I still have another two years left in college and then I have to…"

"No," I shake my head fervently, and her expression changes once more to confusion. "Well, I mean, yes…but, what I'm trying to ask you Will…what I'm trying to say…is that…I want you to…marry me." It's like the frustration has melted away from my body, leaving my stronger somehow. Without the weight of uncertainty…but it is fleeting, the silence following my question causes me pain unlike anything I've ever felt. "Please." I conclude, and then, I wait.

"Caleb…I…" There are tears in her eyes, and they worry me more than the trembling in her arms and the catch in her voice.

"Don't…cry…please. It was only a…suggestion…if you don't want to...I understand."

"Yes."

"Yes?"

She nods then, slowly before laughing, this time a low, careless sound. "Yes Caleb. I'll marry you."

I'm laughing too then, once the initial shock has worn off. A feeling explodes deep within my gut, it causes my skin to freeze over, and likewise, it causes my insides to warm exponentially. I pull her closer to me then, lowering my head before she has a chance to protest and I kiss her full of the mouth, raiding her warmth again and again, until at least the burning in my chest has subsided a bit.

"A suggestion?" She laughs once she's free to speak again.

"It…wasn't very romantic…but…"

"It was perfect," She traces the curve of my ear with her fingertips. "We might have to wait a while before we can…I mean, I'd like to graduate."

"I'll wait." I want to kiss her again, hell, currently I want to throw her over my shoulder and carry her to my chambers, to accomplish there, things that I've wanted to do since I laid eyes on her in this dress—

"I love you." She pulls my face closer for another kiss and I willingly comply. Running my tongue along her lips until we're both breathless and shuddering. "I want to…go upstairs." She whispers, but of course, by then I'm already tugging her along in that very direction.

"Wait," I pause when the weight in my trouser pocket alerts me to something that I've apparently forgotten. "I have a ring…that's what they use on earth isn't it?"

She nods while giggling as I remove the piece from the elaborate box, "Where…where do I put it?"

"Here," she indicates while still holding onto my arm, again I'm fumbling, the ring seems especially small in my hands…"It's too big…" I murmur halfheartedly.

She slips it off of the chosen finger, placing it onto her thumb instead. "It's fine." And then she kisses me again, longer this time, slower.

"Upstairs…" I'm dizzy and she's still laughing, and as we weave through the thick crowd we obtain more than one disapproving look.

* * *

**Author:** Aww fluff. See, look, I can do happy stuff. I just choose not to so that I can keep my bad ass street rep. But I honestly prefer writing smex than killing off everyone. I hope that puts you at ease Zadien. 

I'm trying to study. Trying is the key word. I awoke at six this morning intending to hit the books, read something in physics about electrons and grew tired of such things. But it's only about eight now, so I suppose I can cram something in. I'm just so tired right now, I've been studying since April and apparently, I've forgotten all that I've learnt. Blah.

According To Plan will be updated in June like I promised, I've already jotted down some points for the next two chapters.

Review please.


	22. Talk

**Atonement**

**By Seniya**

Talk

_After we make love  
I'll be lost in the afterglow  
You're all I'm dreaming of  
I just can't, I just can't let the feeling go  
After we make love  
There's no doubt in my mind I've been touched by  
All that heaven and earth will allow  
All that matters is right here and now_

_After We Make Love by Whitney Houston_

"There's a special technique to leper fish catching Will." Of course there was, just as there was a special technique to tent pitching, wood carrying and just generally walking since we'd arrived here.

"Caleb," By now I'm tired, frustrated, irritated – and most of it isn't due to the fact that I'm housing a thirty pound beach ball in my stomach. It's all ironic really, given that we are on _vacation. _" I can fish. My dad taught me how to and I'd like to do…"

"Did he teach you how to go _leper_ fishing?"

"There are no such things as _leper _fish, you twit!"

"You see, now you're getting angry. It's because you're standing up." He reaches out to lead me back to the mountains of pillows that he's placed near our camping place but I pull away.

"I'm not angry!" Really, who died and made him the all-knowing authority on pregnancy? I doubted that he'd last an hour – "I am sick of being told by you where to sit, and what to eat…and…God, I'm just sick of you. Go fishing, you…big…fat headed pig! I hope a whale eats you."

And I stomp back to our campsite with my hands in fists by my sides.

"Just try to relax." He calls from behind me, seemingly unfazed by my harsh verbal attacks. Not that I care, he's just so…stupid that's all. Men. I hate men, all of those stupid, ugly, hairy chested brutes who impregnate women and then tie them to their bedposts…

When I get back to the tent, I decide, I'll throw his things in the river. That thought pleases me immensely.

_I'll show him helpless._

"Will…wait." Him again. I roll my eyes and continue on; in this mood I'll torch the place.

"Will…" His hand is on my shoulder now, I smack it away. His lips on my neck, and his arms on my stomach then after…well, all right, I'll leave those.

"What do you want?"

"Don't be mad."

Who does he think he is? Telling me how to feel, I push away both lips and hands and continue on my tirade.

He catches up to me in a matter of seconds. "I'm just trying to help."

"Well, you're not. You're not helping anyone. Especially not me." But of course he is – he's so sweet to me – and – and I just keep screaming at him – I'm a terrible person – he should leave, he should just go and find a better wife.

Tears are streaming down my face when I turn to face him again. "I-I'm sorry Caleb…I've…b-been really just…terrible and unbearable…don't hate me."

I do feel his sigh of relief when I curl into his arms and allow him to run his hands along my back. "It's all right Will. I know that it must be…uncomfortable for you."

And I'm fat. "I'm fat." And splotchy and pink and just nasty to look at. "I look terrible."

"No. No, you don't."

He's lying.

"You're lying." But I don't mind, in fact, I'd like him to lie some more.

"You're as stunning as the day I met you." I don't bother to mention that the day he met me I was covered in mud and smack dab in the middle of my "awkward" phase.

"Thank you." I sniffle, the tears vanishing nearly as quickly as they came.

"Do you want to go lie down?"

"Yes." He'll probably find some way to annoy me again within the hour, but right now, it feels unimaginably nice to have his arms wrapped about me.

"What do you want for lunch?"

"I'm making sardines and golden apples so I suppose that you'll have to starve. Because as we all know, you can't cook."

"I resent that…"

"Ow."

"What?" He releases his hold on my arms as though he's been stung. "Are you hurt?"

"No…" My hand grazes slight protrusion of my stomach, "…it's the baby Caleb, she's moving."

"He is?"

"I've already told you that this is a girl."

"And I've told you that Old-man Gregory…"

"…look feel…you see?" I press his hand against my stomach, feeling the afternoon sun on my nape and his breath on my forehead.

"I think so…"

"No, that's not it…wait that's it. Did you feel it?"

"Yeah. Was that…it?"

"What do you mean _it_?"

"Well, I didn't feel anything…really."

"She's still small."

"I guess…maybe you should eat more. So that he can get bigger."

"She's fine. The doctor said that I'd feel them more as she gets older."

"Does it hurt though?"

"No. And while we're on the topic, I'll ask you to kindly stop calling my daughter a boy. She'll grow up with issues or something."

"What about you calling my son a girl? Those are issues."

"Whatever." I snuggle back beneath his arms and proceed to nudge him along back to our tent. Maybe I can talk him into sharing a nap with me—or something.

* * *

**Author: **Yummy. Whitney (pre-Bobby). Well, my plans for really fast updates are at a standstill. I still have to go to school and spend stupid _**bonding time**_ with the freaks from my grade before graduation. It's karaoke day today y'all. Boo. But I do write quickly, so this was a little diddy before I marched off to prison.

Since, again, I've never been pregnant. Thank you, thank you. And my mother gave me weird looks when I asked what baby movements feel like. I did the majority of my research on the net, who told me that baby moving feels like gas.

Romantic.

Review please.


	23. Heat

**Atonement**

**By Seniya**

Heat

_Running just as fast as we can  
holdin' on to one another's hand  
tryin' to get away into the night  
and then you put your arms around me  
and we tumble to the ground  
and then you say  
I think we're alone now  
there doesn't seem to be anyone around  
I think we're alone now  
the beating of our hearts is the only sound._

_I Think We're Alone Now By Tiffany_

It was as hot as hell inside of her apartment…but then again, it was as hot as hell outside of her apartment too. July, blessed July, whose arrival is always much anticipated – until it comes. In the winter months, July smells of ice cream and cake – lemonade and endless days – in the spring, it reeks of freedom and seashores – but in July and August, summer sings only of torture.

"Come on…" Although the heat only seemed unbearable to her…sweat laden and sticky, pink for absolutely no reason, Will lay sprawled across her bed, fanning herself with one of Irma's magazines.

She had long discarded her traditional jeans and t-shirt for a thin camisole and a pair of shorts – again, one of her friend's original belongings, although, that did nothing to help her situation. The AC was out, and the day was spiteful, deciding to hold its breath and as a result, any source of salvation. Presently Will's only source of reprieve came from the small battery operated fan that she'd _borrowed _from one of the neighbor's kids last week.

And even that…had its kinks…"Work…don't make me have to go look for batteries…" But long gone were the days when the equipment would actually listen, and of course, its slow, low buzz, quickly dulled into nothingness.

…………………………

"What's a liposuction, and why have all these women had them?" Caleb was – in her mind, at least – _unfortunately still wearing his shirt_, and seated, cross-legged on the floor at the other side of her room.

"It's a surgery where they take a hose and suck the fat out of your belly…" She dropped her hands atop of her stomach for emphasis and then turned to survey him through the barricade of her sweaty bangs, as they had fallen across her eyes. "And stop reading _US Weekly_…it'll rot your mind."

"What's it doing in your room then if it rots your mind?" But he did toss the magazine away.

"It's my mother's. And it's a very adequate mosquito swatter." Will licked her dry lips before returning her gaze to the ceiling. "I'm bored."

"Because you're lying around doing nothing." He mentioned dryly, neglecting to mention the fact that he thoroughly enjoyed watching her lie around and do nothing.

"You're no better."

"Let's go outside then," he paused there waiting for her reaction, ah, there it was, that adorable pout that he loved to see.

"Are you crazy? I'm not leaving here until the sun goes away. You can go outside and melt if you're suicidal."

"I doubt that anyone has ever died from walking around in the sun."

"Two words: _heat stroke_." She rolled back onto her side to watch him again – maybe if she could talk him out of the shirt she wouldn't be _so_ bored—

"Fine Will. Stay inside and stare at the walls…" He moved to his feet, she sat up protesting as a result. "Where are you going?"

"Outside. It's hot."

"Don't leave…I'll be more perky…look," she jumped to feet and tugged at his fingers, "Yay! Sun!"

The humidity had made her long cherry red hair thick and wavy – the heat had caused her alabaster skin to look slick and moist. God, a man could go insane with need just by looking at her.

"You'll stay?" She drew closer so that he could smell the soft, flowery aroma that seemed to always cling to her skin, "I'll sweeten the deal for you."

Gods forgive him for where his mind lingered in that instant. "What?" He didn't proceed to tell her that by outside he had meant her apartment's patio.

"Ice cream. Chocolate…" She laughed at his confused eyes. "You don't like ice cream? My mom bought some yesterday."

"Oh…right…yeah, sure." She released his hand with a small smile and sauntered off to the kitchen, leaving him alone in the bedroom, which in his mind had grown several degrees hotter over the last few minutes.

He should leave now he knew, while he still could – before his mounting desire caused him to do something that they'd both regret…

But of course, that wasn't an option. He couldn't simply leave her alone in this apartment. He still, didn't trust those neighbor boys who more than once today alone had found the overwhelming need to borrow ice.

No, he'd stay – and he'd manage. He was used to it by now in any case…

"Here," She returned moments later with two cups in hand and thrust one into his fist, "You may thank me for my servitude with a foot massage."

"I'll do no such thing," He joined her on her bed, and watched, mesmerized and she swallowed a spoonful of the treat. "Actually…in Meridian, it is customary to show gratitude with the exchanging of bodily fluids. It shows a deep, powerful bond."

"You people are disgusting. No offense."

There was a line of syrup that trailed from her bottom lip to her chin, she seemed unaware of it, but it captured every one of his attentions. He did managed to stammer out eventually however, "Er…i-it's actually…"

"I know," Smiling, she leaned forward, "You want a kiss."

He felt himself flush, and then redden when she eased forward to accomplish the task at hand. "A-Actually…" he breathed, "I-I meant that men exchange vials of blood. Women aren't usually…"

His words were swallowed up by the gentle pressure of her warm, full mouth on his – he wasn't fool enough to protest after that, especially not when she began to use her teeth and tongue to barter her way inside.

The ice cream was suddenly on the floor and his hands suddenly knotted in her hair, he sweet, fragrant hair that he'd wanted to bury his face in from the moment he saw it – he felt the upward curve of her lips and then their removal, and afterwards had to suppress a groan when dry air kissed his lips instead of her.

"You're being very serious today." Again she drenched him in her smell, _jasmine_, he remembered and decided then that he'd never again forget it – now that she leaned close to wipe away trails of the creamed ice that had been left there due to her earlier ministrations.

"Will…" He swallowed, feeling as though his flesh itself was aflame. He could hear the blood in his ears, feel the tightness in his stomach, and slowly all he knew came to center about her.

With a steady hand he took the cup away from her fist and placed it on the bedside table, Will followed the movement with careful eyes, for even she wasn't naïve enough to not know what that heated look in his eyes meant for her.

And she was glad.

He drew her lovingly into his arms then, before kissing her in a way that reduced her to a puddle of shivering limbs and heated blood. His fingers were lost in her hair, and she could feel the warmth from his touch on her scalp, kneading, touching – oh God.

She was whimpering when he pulled away, not from fear or worry, but from frustration…she needed him to do anything but to stop.

His eyes looked tortured, his face – a mask of desire painted with worry. "Don't…" she whispered carefully, touching his cheek with her fingers, and then with her lips. "Don't stop Caleb."

It wasn't enough, for he didn't begin again immediately, instead whispering roughly, in a voice that made her heart ache, "I love you…I love you so very much Will…I can't tell you just how…"

"Then don't." She interjected, feeling her heart and soul melt with each and very sentence, "show me."

And he did, with his lips and his breath; he lavished his wonderful attention onto her neck and face, until she was writhing in his arms.

Her own hands found their way beneath his shirt, he stiffened at the first touch of her trembling fingers against his muscles, but didn't stop her, too far gone in this maze of wants and desires to consider anything but the immense yearning screaming from within his stomach.

"I'll hurt you," He sounded apologetic already, and to her surprise, she felt his broad shoulders shake with the words. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't." And then she kissed him again, intending to relieve his worries, to calm his fears – he was lowering her now, carefully, languidly, as though she were made of something precious – she nearly cried then with the love that she felt from him.

_For him?_

**Yes.**

She'd give him this, and she'd take from him what he offered – her own racing heart craved that much, at the very least.

"We should stop," Even as he kissed her shoulders and neck he was offering her reasons as to why this was such a horrible mistake. She knew that he'd regret it later, convinced that he'd dishonored her in some way…really, was there anyway to convince him of anything else?

Slowly, instinctively, she arched her back, raising her hips so that for the first time the heat of his desire touched hers. She sought out his beautiful green gaze in the fading afternoon light just as the sharp hiss of breath escaped his lips, telling him then, in as strong a voice as she could muster: "I want you Caleb. I do, in every way that I can have you. Don't you forget that."

"Will…"

…………………………

The scream of the front door was followed by the heavy sound of keys against mahogany and then heels against linoleum. "Will, honey…I'm home! Are you still in your room? God the traffic was murder."

_Oh shit._ Desire collided with reality and yes, reality won. Soon Will, wide eyed and frantic, was scrambling from beneath his arms, tumbling onto the floor in an unceremonious heap, one leg covered in ice cream.

"Will? Oh hello Caleb…Will, what are you doing on the floor?" At that very moment, Susan crowded the doorway, sucking out any remaining feelings of tenderness that might have remained.

"Um…Cleaning?" But lies like those don't work on mothers, and Will now felt herself bristling under the woman's heated glare, it didn't take a genius to piece together the scene…"If you'll excuse us Caleb, my daughter and I need to have a little talk."

Could today get any more embarrassing. No, probably not, before, she could successfully stagger to her feet, her mother rushed inside to pull her out, and haul her into the bathroom.

"What were you doing?" She didn't seem angry – afraid, yes, disgusted – definitely, but at least she wasn't angry. And Will used that fact to comfort her raging mind.

"We weren't doing anything…just kissing and stuff…" _Thanks for that by the way_.

It had taken so long to get him to look at her in that way – and now – well, she'd probably have to wait another two years to get him to do it again.

"Look Wilma…I know that at your age it seems like sex isn't that much of a big deal…but you have to think of the consequences, what if you get pregnant or…"

"Mom, relax. I know, I'm not stupid," Although, there hadn't been a single thought on her mind before about contraceptives, Will felt certain that one of them would have remembered eventually. "And we weren't doing anything anyway."

"Are you though? I'm not signing anything for you to go on birth control…I don't like this one bit."

"No Mom, we aren't. Trust me." She tried to edge past the woman, but Susan held firm.

"I'm not supporting any child that the two of you conceive either, so you think about that…"

"All right fine. I'll stay a virgin for the rest of my life. I get it. Can I go back to my room now?" Had it really been within the hour that she'd experienced such a wild rush of feelings and sensations? Presently the only thing she felt was guilt, rimmed of course, with bitter humiliation.

Now, Susan stepped aside for her only child to slip through the door, and it was only after she'd passed along and gone off to carry on what had to be a very awkward conversation with Caleb that Susan allowed the sigh of relief to pass over her lips. "God, I sound like my mother." She mumbled to the mirror, before she too, exited the room.

…………………………

**Author:** Oh the last WxC shipper left. I'm all alone in this big CxC world…I know that you guys have lives and stuff, but I'm little and lonely…

I hope that I didn't cause any palpitations and unneeded sweatiness with this. I did get a bit carried away, thinking that this my one last chance to smex this thing up. And I succeeded.

About my karaoke, well of course I was the shizz with my Cher impression, but true to form my Sunny messed me up and I lost to a Kelly Clarkson wannabe. Tactless.

More importantly though, I really, really wanna finish this fic by the end of this week so that I can concentrate on ATP. I would be a lot more finished by now but I kept on having to rewrite this. I swear that I changed the plot three times.

Review please.


	24. Xmas

**Atonement**

**By Seniya**

X-mas

_I'll have a Blue Christmas without you  
I'll be so blue thinking about you  
Decorations of red on a green Christmas tree  
Won't be the same dear, if you're not here with me_

_And the when those blue snowflakes start fallin'  
That's when those blue memories start callin'  
You'll be doin' all right, with your Christmas of white  
But I'll have a blue, blue, blue, blue Christmas_

_Blue Christmas By Elvis Presley_

Christmas wasn't a Meridian tradition – it could never be. It collided to the day with the Festival of the Sun, which was still, in Caleb's mind a far more interesting holiday.

Christmas from what he understood of it, involved gift giving and over eating – quite similar in fact to most Earth holidays – although this one seemed to be given a great deal more attention.

It truly made very little sense to him exactly why Will should be so excited about it – and truly, she was, even though he did his best to dampen her joyful mood.

"But you've always had Christmas, can't we for once go to the sun festival?" None too fond of men made of gingerbread or tinsel, Caleb had truly been anticipating this year's winter solely for the fact that it was his turn.

Yes turn, for they'd been alternating.

One year for Christmas, and the next for the Sun Festival. However, it had dawned on Caleb, sometime in November that since they'd been married he'd never gotten his chance, despite all of his best efforts.

_He couldn't even remember how that had happened_—

Never mind that now though, this year would be different, he attempted to explain it all to Will, who was currently draping cotton balls over a large Pine tree, "We are going to the Sun Festival. I'm the man of this house…and that accounts for something Woman!"

She for the most part, ignored him; it was only when he began to tug at the strings of popcorn that she had just placed above the doorway that she began to take offence. "Tell me Caleb, what is the point of having a sun festival in the dead of winter?"

"Oh, so now I see your true feelings! You've never liked the Sun Festival – you don't even let me have my turn!" Aware of just how childish this entire conversation sounded, Caleb grew silent, returning his attention instead to the evil decorations that were defacing their house.

"It's not that I don't let you have your turn Caleb. It's simply that every year you always tell me that you want to celebrate Christmas instead." She was in front of him now, attempting to pry her garlands away from his fist.

"That's ridiculous." He had no real recollection of that – although – all right fine, perhaps the year before he had allowed her to have her Christmas after she'd sauntered into his bedroom clad in the most delectable pair of undergarments that he'd ever laid his eyes on – and all right, last year too, when she'd slipped into his bath wearing nothing but a smile with her long hair dripping wet and – _wait_, was he noticing a pattern here?

"You," he stared at her with new eyes, "you've been…you've been…" He checked out of the corner of his eye to ensure that Juliana, now a precious two years, was still distracted with one of her puppets on the floor before he continued, "seducing me to get your wicked holiday."

She nearly laughed, but he did catch the slight blush that stained her cheeks. "That's silly Caleb, how could I possibly do something like that?"

"You could…and you have been!" She'd managed to wrestle her strings away from his stubborn fingers, and so she rolled her eyes because he no longer had any sort of leverage against her.

"Well, if I have, it's your fault isn't it? Really, allow me to take advantage of you."

His fault? As if! The woman knew that he had no control where she was concerned. "And besides," she threw him a knowing look from beneath the shadows of her winged russet brows, "Juliana loves Christmas. She's looking forward to Santa. You would be sadistic to take that away from her."

"That's because you keep putting it in her head!" Come to think of it, all this talk of Juliana brought to his mind the winter time, three years ago when Will had – Oh Gods yes – been covered in caramel from her baking and allowed him to…_well_, you understand – oh yes, there was definitely a pattern here.

Well, it ended tonight! "Juliana is two, her favourite word is sheep! She doesn't understand Christmas."

"And so what? You want to take her to the Sun Festival because she'll understand that?"

"You don't even know what they do at the Sun Festival."

"I know that they don't celebrate love and peace and goodwill to all men."

"It…" It was true; the majority of the Sun Festival concerned the celebration of crops and farmers – and of course, everyone's favourite, wild boar wrestling. No, he wouldn't miss it this year! "Fair's fair Wilma. And we are going to the Sun Festival this year. End of discussion."

Will stared at him blankly for a while, and he half expected her to continue on with the argument, but instead she shrugged her shoulders and muttered a soft "all right" before walking over to Juliana's resting place and scooping her up in her arms. "I'm taking her upstairs for her bath."

* * *

Well that was downright suspicious, Caleb decided, and having been left to his thoughts for a good ten minutes, he imagined that she was planning something with her little Christmas loving self.

Yes, that had to be it.

Well, of course he wouldn't be totally opposed to her donning that lovely set of red lacy things that she'd worn that one time – and if she wanted to cover herself in syrup again for his delight, then so be it. Only this time, he'd keep his mouth shut. She'd never get him to promise anything like that again!

* * *

He waited for her to finish giving Juliana her bath and then for her to take her own before venturing upstairs. There he took his own shower, and darted off to Juliana's nursery to wish his daughter good night.

He entered his own room with a great deal more caution, half expecting her to jump him right then and there – he'd be disappointed however. She was sitting at her vanity, quietly, too quietly, brushing the tangles from her marvellous crimson hair.

He watched her for a while, waiting for it : the bait – which of course didn't come. She just kept tugging at her hair, which was, after ten minutes of non-stop grooming, perfectly tame, but still, she went on.

If she thought that this would work – well, she was right. _Gods_, how he loved her hair, and as it glistened now in the slight glow from the candles, all he could do was to imagine his fingers lost in the sweet, silky tendrils.

When she was finally finished, he was already seated on their bed, dressed in his own bedclothes, watching her as she stretched her limbs languidly. She seemed to have only now noticed him – _right_.

"It's cold tonight isn't it?"

Ah, here it was. He smiled to himself, folding his arms across his chest and watching her as she walked nearer, well he'd play along. "I suppose so. Will, Love, now you aren't upset with me, are you?"

"Of course not _love_." She slipped into the bed so that she was straddling him, then she dipped her head so that her long curtain of hair surrounded them. "It's like you said," he felt the soft brush of her lips against his nose, coupled with the feather light touch of her fingers on his naked chest, "fair's fair."

Damn – the woman was good at this. He was never one to complain at the surprising change his little, quiet, shy Will would undertake once alone with him, the way that she moved her lips and her hands and her teeth, to kiss and taunt every burning inch of his face, neck and chest – well it was no wonder that he'd succumb the last three times.

But the time that she'd started on her own shirt, he was helping her against all better judgment, pulling at the snap of her pants, and running his arms over the graceful curve of her –

"Is this what you want Caleb?" He heard her hot whisper against his cheek even as she slipped out of her nightshirt.

"You know that it is." The pants had vanished now, and she met his lips with hers, sipping her tongue within to explore and of course, to tempt him further. "Are you going to give me what I want then?" She breathed, and for the first time he smiled openly at her, feeling remarkably proud of his accomplishment as he did, "Now Angel, that wouldn't be _fair_ now would it?"

"No…" He felt the warmth of her tongue over the shell of his ear, the teasing kisses of her fingertips as they fluttered about the knot of his pants. "…I should be fair to you." And then she clamoured off of him.

It took him a full half-minute to realize that she'd gone. Walked away the same way that she'd come, only this time, she was moving stark naked, exaggerating each careful swing of her wonderful body.

She slipped under the covers on her side of the bed without another word. And it slowly dawned on him that she was perhaps waiting for him to say something.

"What?" His heart was still racing, surprisingly; he'd thought that all the blood in his body had fled to certain other places. "What…y-you're…you're going to sleep?"

He noticed the careless movement of her shoulders even though she had turned on her side, backing him. "I'm tired."

"Y-You're tired?" He sputtered. This had to be a joke.

"Yes. I'll have to conserve my energy for the rigors of the Sun Festival." She turned on her back to yawn exaggeratedly, arching her back and curling her toes in the most provocative manner imaginable. "I might be tired until after New Years. Who can tell?"

Yes, his wife was cunning, and by heaven, he loved her all the more for it.

He'd pulled her on top of him within the next few seconds, distinctly avoiding her smug grin as he whispered against her neck, "All right, you win. We'll have Christmas this year."

* * *

**Author:** You know, this might be the first one of these that I really actually liked. It was so much fun to do. And it's actually based on an idea that one of my Zutara people gave me for a plot. So thanks for that.

Well, of course I'm not alone darlings. It'll be a sad cold day when there are no WillxCaleb fans left.

Thanks for the support so far, three more chapters left and so it should be completed by Sunday if I'm not messed up. One other one has mentions of smex (which by the way just means sex between a really hot cartoon character and some girl of your choosing) and after that I'll leave with some fluff and According To Plan.

Reviews always make me happy.


	25. Prescription

**Atonement**

**By Seniya**

Prescription

_Immobilized by the thought of you  
Paralyzed by the sight of you  
Hypnotized by the words you say  
Not true but I believe anyway_

_Shiver By Maroon 5_

_Pathetic fallacy. _

That was what this was called, wasn't it? The raging tempest that screamed bloody chaos overhead, the thousands of helpless tears that were currently meandering to their less than glamorous demise upon the plane of murky grass in front of his eyes. It all mirrored the frenzy of excited emotions clawing at his insides.

Caleb had never felt so God awful in his life.

He had asked Hay Lin about it, more for proximity reasons than for the curious glances that she kept offering him every time she saw his disgruntled form emerge from the basement. "I think that I have one of your earth diseases. What is it called? The foo?"

"The flu." She corrected automatically, wasting no time to spring across the breakfast table to be closer to him. "Do you have a fever?" She peered through his ears.

"No."

"A headache?"

"No."

"Then what?" Crossing her arms across her dark red _Hello Kitty_ T-shirt, Hay Lin looked absolutely baffled, she had reached the pinnacle of her medical expertise with this boy and they were still both confused.

"I…" How could he describe it? "It's a stomach problem."

Her mouth formed a large O shape before she bent low and whispered, "do you have the runs?"

"No. I…It feels as though there's something crawling around in there. It makes me feel…" He paused for a moment before reconsidering Hay Lin as a threat and then breathed, "feel nervous."

Now this was confusing. Hay Lin remained thoughtful for a good three minutes before deciding that she couldn't think about it any more. "Maybe it's the weather." She offered.

"The rain?"

"Yes. Sometimes when it snows I get headaches. And when there's a storm coming, my grandmother gets backaches."

_The weather._

……………………………………………

The weather didn't ease up over the next few days—if anything, it got worse, as did Caleb's mood. It reached to a crescendo on the Saturday following, with the arrival of the other girls, in the midst of this weather, in apparent preparation for a sleepover. A ritual that Caleb understood consisted little of act of sleeping, and more of chattering and giggling.

It had been Irma who had arrived first, sleeping bag in tow, a thick sheen of rain coating the few bits of skin that peered out from beneath her thick jacket, she had slammed the kitchen door shut in her wake, only to have it pushed forward mere seconds after, sending the brunette spiraling forward across the kitchen floor, flat on her face.

"Irma? Did I hit you?" In a mop of bags and sopping wet bangs, Will slid in gracelessly behind her.

"No shit Sherlock."

"Well you shoved the door in my face genius! You had it coming."

Irma staggered to her feet, slipping twice in the process before meeting Caleb's disgruntled gaze from across the room where he stood silently watching as this scene played out before him. Momentarily forgetting her anger, she rounded on him instead. "Caleb! Good to see that you're still alive and well after the fire and brimstone that Corndog has been calling on you for the last week. Remember Will—when she called him a—"

Will, upon sensing the inappropriate nature of the conversation, decided to steer it back into safer waters, "Um, yeah—hey think fast!" And with that she tossed Irma's duffle at her head. It collided with a sickening _thud_ sending Irma, once again back onto the floor.

"What is your problem Vandom?" Refusing to stagger to her feet for conviction that she would only be sent right back down again, Irma ranted in the horizontal. "See this Caleb, the girl's half crazy! She's been trying to do me in since lunch."

"No one made you eat the tuna Irma. And besides, it was your bag."

"I am done with you. I'm going upstairs. Dibs on the bed!" With remarkable sped and agility she made a dash for the upstairs, leaving Will and Caleb, quite alone in the kitchen.

"You should go too. If you want a bed." It was a less than subtle hint that she should leave. Staring at her muddy rain boots, she mentally rejected the notion. "I…um…heard about what happened with you and Cornd—Cornelia…I'm sorry."

"Well, you'd be the only one." For the first time she noticed the pastiness of his complexion and the dullness in his eyes, "What is Cornelia calling me these days?"

Words that shouldn't be uttered more than thirty miles away from a church. "Nothing…Irma was making that up. So, um, are you going to be hanging around all night?"

Mistaking the nausea that had been plaguing him for the last fortnight for a genuine sickness she edged closer hesitantly, wondering if he'd tell her if she found the nerve to ask. "Not if I can help it. Watching you girls and your little habits…" He fell short then, the slight whiff of her shampoo had slowly infiltrated his senses. He couldn't place the smell…something flowery…something light.

"I know…" Seeing how his expression had clouded, how he had all but flinched in actual pain when she had walked closer, Will whispered her advice, "that you don't like me telling you what to do, but I think that you should sit down. You look sick."

Always the diplomatic one, he thought, although he did find himself on a stool at her prodding. He wasn't too fond of her touching him, which she seemed intent on doing, trying to discern whether or not he had a fever, much like what Hay Lin had done a few days before. It wasn't the same however, and he tried to smack her insolent palms away when she touched his neck—the feelings in the pit of his stomach had increased tenfold with her closeness, and it suddenly dawned on him what exactly the cause of his nervousness was.

It was in her smell, in her skin, in those delicate features and sweet dusting of golden brown freckles across her nose—

These sensations had started when he'd spent an entire evening nearly alone in her presence—and severely worsened when he'd glimpsed her over the past few days. Now with her _touching_ him and _looking _at him, _breathing _on him—

He got to his feet.

It was all very clear: _he was allergic to Will_. Something about her was making him unwell. And God help him now because his tongue was too heavy now to explain it to her. "I know what's wrong now Will…I'll talk to Yan Lin."

He left before she had a chance to respond, darting off towards the back of the house, where he hoped that he could be alone. There would be no such luck however, for Yan Lin, searching for the source of a very unpleasant aroma had also come there, seizing his chance and Caleb decied to make good on his plan to rid himself of these feelings.

"Yan Lin." The older lady, who had been crouched low on the floor, sniffing a damp looking area on the wall, jumped with a screech. "Caleb? What is it?"

"I figured out what was wrong with me."

"Oh right? Hay Lin told me it was the rain."

Refusing to be dismissed, Caleb blustered on, "It's an allergy—I'm allergic to…" Well, now it sounded foolish…but perhaps it was a common earth ailment. "I am allergic to Will."

"You're what?"

"You…heard me." For he was reluctant to repeat such a silly admittance.

"You mean that you are allergic to her shampoo or her fabric softener or…has it given you hives?" Reluctant to have yet another female search his body, he pressed, "No, it's just…a nasty feeling…in my stomach…it feels like I'm losing my mind."

"Oh…" Comprehension clouded her aged features, although when she spoke, she remained painfully vague. "Does Will know that you're allergic to her?"

"No." Well, of course not, Will was such a sweet girl—he couldn't tell her something like that, it would hurt her…and besides, it was becoming obvious that this allergy caused his tongue to swell.

"Is she still seeing Matthew?"

"The guitar boy? I think so…"

"Well now Caleb, I think that this is a very confusing situation…"

"What does he have to do with anything? The only reason I came here is because I need some sort of formula from you…a potion…err…something."

But she only shook her head slowly for a response. "There is nothing that I can give you Caleb. Perhaps in time this infatuation will fade."

"Infatuation? I am not infatuated!"

"Oh right…you're _allergic_."

He knew that beneath the veneer of motherly sympathy she was probably doubled over, laughing at him—and so he left, intending initially to march back into the kitchen to tell Will to change her annoying smell. But upon catching a glimpse of her sodden red hair—he changed his mind and _temporarily_ retreated to the basement.

Infatuated. Really.

* * *

**Author:** Bored, bored, bored. And broke, I have to get a j-job. Blah. I have been searching for the past few days, writing up resumes and lying through my teeth about how great I am…I've got expenses after all, I slept on my I-pod and broke it, I accidentally knocked my scanner off of it's stand and broke it and the seventh Harry Potter book is coming out. 


	26. Zealous

**Atonement**

**By Seniya**

Zealous

_I've been learning to live without you now  
But I miss you sometimes  
The more I know, the less I understand  
All the things I thought I knew, I'm learning them again  
I've been trying to get down to the Heart of the Matter  
But my will gets weak  
And my thoughts seem to scatter  
But I think it's about forgiveness  
Forgiveness  
Even if, even if you don't love me anymore_

_The Heart Of The Matter by India.Arie_

The desires which a man returning home from battle stores within his heart vary with the man himself. An endless kaleidoscope of worry and euphoria, of nostalgia and impatience – few can dream of the torment of war, of the fear that steals all rational thought and drives the mind into madness, of the fantasies that warms one's bed and heart in the mists of loneliness.

There is also, the unimaginable happiness equated with homecoming, for upon many a night, a lonely man does think, longingly, of his home. Of his wife, his children, his parents—

And on that day, when his dream is finally realised, when the thick line that segregates reality from fantasy finally disintegrates, a man must finally face the truth, that the dreams he had so carefully romanticised are hopeless in comparison to what this world offers him.

………………………..

He had never been worried. Unlike the others in his regiment he had never felt even remotely hesitant about returning home. Of course, they were all glad, the battles had ceased, for now anyway and _home_ that whispered word, finally seemed tangible.

But all of them had seen enough wars and survived enough battles to understand the ways of the world. The changes that took over once they'd left. The fact that perhaps in their absence, their little wives had deemed _fidelity_ an unnecessary inconvenience, and then taken up with one of the remaining men—the blacksmith, the butcher, the cobbler—

After all, women, unlike men, are a fickle breed.

But he wasn't. Not once in those passing weeks had that thought ever crossed his mind. For still strong in his mind was the selflessness of her lovemaking, the innocence in her touch and the love in her sweet words, all given to _him_ on their wedding night. A night that he was more than eager to recommence as soon as possible.

………………………..

She wouldn't disappoint him, for it was the first thing that he saw when he turned the bend that would lead to their house. Her, in all of her glory…long red hair streaming behind her in effortless waves and curls, her smooth white skin flushed. And her lips soft and warm when they first touched his, banishing the need for any other words between them.

"I missed you so much." She manages to whisper just before he tosses her up into his arms. An embrace that he surely can't imagine breaking again. She kisses him once more, sifting uncomfortably in his grasp in order to manage it.

He takes her into their living room, the rich sound of her muffled laughter warming his heart and later his neck, and they somehow stumble onto the floor in a heap of limbs and clothes. He does mumble something about the bedroom, but she shakes her head, tugging at the edge of his shirt and forcing him into compliance. And he makes love to her there, as rough as it is tender, until he is trembling and she is whimpering. Until she lifts her head from its place on his forearm and brushes her full lips against each new scar that he has earned.

_Home._

………………………..

Sometime after the living room and the bathroom, the hallway and the closet—they do make it to the bed. It is long past the sunset when they do, and the evening light casts lengthy shadows across the room.

There is a sweet, warm hum of contentment in her veins when he wraps his arms around her to pull her closer. He kisses her neck playfully and she can't help but smile when he whispers something into her ear.

"Yes, I am tired." Will mumbles, knowing that in all of his masculine arrogance he will take that as a remarkable compliment.

He does. Shifting her body so that she lays beneath him, he brushes his hand along the side of her cheek, allowing it to slip lower until she stops its journey with her own. "Give me a minute, won't you?"

"I've been dreaming of this." His mouth now, brushing hot kisses atop her stomach. "Of you."

Simply overjoyed to see him, period, and now to see him so wonderfully tender, she whispers back, "I've been worried sick." At the look of pure sympathy in his eyes, she edges on, "I think that you should make it up to me."

"How?" Breath hot and skin slippery with perspiration—she wriggles at the sensation of his kin against hers. "Anything?" She teases.

"Anything."

"Dinner. I'm starving and I want you to make me dinner." He throws her an admonishing look, one that causes her to grin shamelessly. "Fish please, you know how I like it."

"I thought," He kisses her full on the mouth at each pause, "that you hated my cooking."

"It was banter. Friendly foreplay…" Now, it is he who grins, "foreplay, love?"

"You know what I mean…" Obviously, he doesn't, for he begins his slow seduction of her body, slipping between her thighs and melding his hips to hers. Beginning his slow, sultry dance with a practiced patience.

………………………..

It is into the night when she arises, and he is missing from her bed. For an endless instant she feels her heart shudder, the unmentionable pain of loneliness creeps into her mind—until she can remember that he is home again. And that he'll be home again with her for a long while.

She finds his discarded shirt and slips it on, relishing in his lingering aroma while she wanders downstairs into the kitchen. True to her request, the deep, tempting fragrance of fried fish greets her once she passes through the threshold.

He is fiddling about above the stove, clad only in a pair of loose fitting pants. She wraps her arms around his naked back from behind him, pressing a soft kiss between his shoulder blades that causes him to laugh lightly.

"You didn't wake me up." She scolds once he turns to face her.

"You are simply adorable when you sleep." He kisses her nose. "And you're distracting when you're awake."

"First of all, I'd like to think that I'm adorable all of the time. And second," Will stands precariously on her tiptoes to kiss his chin, "I resent being called a distraction."

With her hair tousled like it is now, and her lips set in that wondrous pout—it is truly a miracle that she can consider herself anything else. "You get more beautiful every time I see you, a fact that places your kitchen in immediate danger, my lady."

Smiling, she releases her grip on him, "I do love all these compliments that you seem so intent on giving me. But it seems like only yesterday that you called me a…what was it…a skinny redhead with an attitude problem…"

"Banter my dear. What did you call it—foreplay?"

She smacks his insolent hands away from her waist and moves towards the cabinets, "I'll make dessert." Rifling through the cabinets she unwraps some pears and apples, intending on making a pie.

"I've missed you too, you know." His voice touches her heart; she turns to survey him from beneath her fallen bangs. "I know, but," A satisfied sideways smirk touches her lips, "we'll be able to make up for the honeymoon, won't we."

"Two days." His reply.

_Two days._

"Two days for what?"

"I have to leave again after that…it'll be shorter this time, but it's absolutely…"

"No. You said that this was the last time Caleb!" The knife that she'd been holding slips from her fingers and hits the countertop with a seemingly thunderous _clack._ "It was the only reason that I let you go the day after our wedding…"

"Don't Will," his voice has taken that impatient tone that is reminiscent of him reprimanding her when she was fifteen. "This is important and…"

"And our marriage isn't?"

"Why are you being this selfish? You know what this means for Meridian."

She is silent after that, knowing that she is being selfish—when she shouldn't be. Yet there is still that small part of her, so often ignored, the part that longs to scream at him that _he's being selfish_. That she gave up everything for him: her home, her family, her friends, and he refuses to do the same thing for her.

The success of this battle doesn't depend solely on him. He could stay if he wanted, if he really wanted to.

There are tears in her eyes when she finally manages to clear her thoughts. _He can't see her cry._ "I'm going upstairs."

"Will…I didn't mean…" But it's too late, she's already scampered away upstairs, muttering only once, half heartedly, that she only wants to change her clothes.

………………………..

She stays in their room, crying into the pillows until she can't anymore. And even then the misery doesn't fade, although she scrubs her face so that she may pretend that it has. She does shed the oversized shirt, remembering that she told him that she wanted to change into something else.

When she finally re-emerges, he is seated in the hallway, staring blankly at the bedroom door. "Is…Is dinner ready?" She hates the way that her voice cracks; she really hates the way that he looks at her, as though she'd break—_pity_.

"I should get dessert ready then."

"I'm sorry." He's on his feet, starting towards her, crowding her by bracing his hands on either side of her head. "I know what it has to be like for you…and I…shouldn't have called you selfish. You aren't, you're not."

"I love you Caleb." He knows it, and it isn't to remind him of her feelings, perhaps to remind herself…yes, this is why she stays. This is why she waits.

"I burnt the fish." At that she does manage to smile, "that's why I don't allow you to cook."

He kisses her then, full on the mouth feeling immensely relieved when she kisses him back, with matching ardour. "What are we going to eat now?" She breathes once he releases her. "We'll figure out something." It's an easy reply, although in her heart and perhaps his, it is the most poignant thing that could have been uttered this night.

…………………….

**Author:** One more left! I'm definitely trying to finish this by Saturday, because Harry Potter is coming out on that day and I can't get it until Monday so I'm hiding from the internet until I'm done reading it so I can't get spoiled. Makes sense. Well, review all!

**Next:** V is for Victory.


	27. Victory

**Atonement**

**By Seniya**

Victory

_I will go down with this ship  
And I won't put my hands up and surrender  
There will be no white flag above my door  
I'm in love and always will be_

_White Flag by Dido_

She had always known that this would happen. And believe me, this sentence is spoken with neither mock superiority nor arrogance. There is little to brag about this sort of knowing in any case—truly, the only sensation to be derived is absolute misery. And she is who suffers most of all despite her foresight, for although she _knew_, and had always known, somewhere along the line he had managed to convince her otherwise, lulled her into this security.

Now it was all that she could do to forestall the tears that were burning the backs of her eyes. Will had told herself that she needed to be strong, brave—for him, for if he awoke to find her sobbing, it would somehow disintegrate his remaining morale.

It was different in Meridian. On earth, hospitals were clean, busy and secluded. Patients were locked away, safely in their beds; they were connected to machines that only reassured the individual's health. And then the doctors would come, they, with their charts and tests and tables would explain it all in words that few could understand, but that everyone could appreciate. However, here there was no such comfort for the ailing. The physician's cottage was a dank, dark place, filled with jars of livers and bowls of mashed weeds and herbs. He, unlike the doctors of earth refused to explain to her Caleb's condition and obviously because she was a woman, he thought that she should leave his room immediately, and idea he repeated each time he came into her sight.

Her stubbornness did not set well with him, and in fact, his opinion of her seriously worsened when several of her earth friends, and even her Majesty, Queen Elyon herself, came to crowd his precious cottage, all ignoring his requests for the man's loneliness.

"How do you expect him to heal if there are constantly five of you hovering about his bedside!" Of course, the Queen herself wasn't included in this. He neglected to mention the several other visitors, including a light fingered Passling and many a limping solider, since he considered those to be even worse than the present company. "And you," he hissed, pointing a lone, aged finger a Will's small form, "perhaps if you'd cease your simpering…"

"Perhaps if you'd cease yours we could leave." A dark skinned one snapped at him. Taranee, who was undeniably upset that Will had had to come here and endure this man's presence for three long days, had decidedly left her patience at the door. "Really, can't you see that she's upset enough as it is!"

"She isn't his wife! This is improper! Your highness, you must understand that I was instructed to give this boy the best care, and I find it impossible with her here. She refuses to leave, for three days…and I…"

Elyon, who had been alerted by Cornelia only this morning to this same situation, although it had been worded more along the lines that Will was running herself ragged by Caleb's bedside, straightened her back and walked towards him with all of her queenly glory. "Sir, I trust that you can understand that _we_ are only here to ensure of friend's own health. _We_ mean you no disrespect, and hopefully, _we_ can convince Wilma that leaving him be is in everyone's best interests." Her use of the royal plural was not to be ignored, and soon the physician found himself nodding silently to his sovereign.

"But still…your Majesty…you see they are unwed, and without a chaperone…well…"

Elyon brushed this aside with a wave of her hand, "you see…" She stammered for a moment, lost in a sea of excuses that all seemed too ridiculous to utilize. "They are betrothed…" she fibbed, "and she is quite…smitten…" With a slight incline of her head she urged the man outside and unwilling to disobey his lady Queen he obeyed immediately.

……………………………

"Will…" Hay Lin tried first, crouching low next to the woe be gone armchair that the red head was currently curled up in, "Caleb wouldn't want you to worry like this…" Her deep brown eyes were shiny with tears although none grazed her cheeks and when she spoke, her husky voice trembled. "He…wouldn't want me to worry…I'll worry more if I can't see him."

"What Hay Lin means is," Brushing the small brunette aside, Cornelia swooped down in front of Will, her face stern, her voice unrelenting, "of course you're worried." She spared a short glance towards the other room where Caleb was being kept, "but you'll make yourself sick if you don't eat, if you don't sleep." She pressed a hot mug into her hands; it was a while before Will wrapped her fingers about it. "Don't drive yourself crazy, he'll be fine."

"I'm scared Cornelia." Will admitted, allowing the first two fat tears to burn along her cheeks. The blonde bit her lip, for a moment recalling the bitter sensations that had plagued her for well over a year when this same small girl had thumbed her nose to all the rules of friendship and started dating her ex—but that had been over three years ago, now she'd come to appreciate the sweetness that these two seemed to share—sometimes, she could even feel jealous.

Upon seeing Cornelia's hesitance, Irma pulled the blonde away. "But you see Billy…the worst is over!" It didn't matter that her usually jovial tone seemed forced somehow, that she too had spent the last few days more worried about the fact that Will was refusing to eat, sleep or go to her classes. "Come on now…they're just being nice, but I'll tell you the truth. You look like hell…and I don't care how much Caleb says he loves you, I know that few people could stand to see their girlfriend when she looks like this."

"Irma…" Taranee hissed, but Will's quiet, sideways smile ceased the whispers. Now, it was Taranee who shook her head, nearly dissolving into giggles at the undoubted fact that Irma could practically convince Will to do anything. All four girls watched as Will clamoured to her unsteady legs, but it was Hay Lin who wrapped a cautious hand around her friend's waist, happily leading her towards the open door.

……………………………

They, all five, stayed with her for the remainder of the day, forcing food down her throat and even going so far as to force her into one of the luxurious palace beds. She fell asleep almost immediately.

Fully convinced that Will would certainly attempt to return to Caleb's side when she felt that no one was watching, the girls posted watch outside of the door, waiting for her to try something, or at least for Elyon to rally together a more formal guard.

"I hate seeing her like this…I don't even think that she'll try anything, she's fast asleep."

"She's tired." Cornelia answered Hay Lin's speculation before she returned her gaze to the magnificent domed ceiling above them. "I thought that you were exaggerating when you said that she wasn't sleeping but…"

"What are we complaining about? If this was in a Vance Michael Justin flick it'd be the single most romantic moment…" Irma feigned a wide grin, it slid off her face however at the stern look that Taranee was offering her.

"This is why you broke up isn't it Cornelia?" A slow hush fell over the foursome as the normally timid Taranee phrased the question that had been tormenting the group for years. "Because of the separation."

The blonde twisted her lips as though she'd rather remain silent on the topic, but after the gazes on her face refused to subside, she answered, "no, it was because…we weren't working out."

"That's not how I remember it." Irma snorted.

"Well you weren't there!"

"You cussed the boy out for weeks, and then when he and Will got together you started saying that they wouldn't last…and…"

"I…I was different then." And she had been. She'd thought that she'd been in love with him, and quite frankly, she hadn't a clue on how to behave when she suddenly wasn't anymore. Irma didn't understand that. "You don't have any idea what that was like for me, so don't try to judge me!"

"Don't!" Hay Lin interjected, throwing Taranee a reproachful glare before facing Irma, "we're here for Will…there's no reason for us to bring…"

"I think that they should break up." Taranee said flatly.

"Well, sadly this a couple not a _ménage à trios_ and so your opinion counts for precious little."

"I'm not saying it to be mean. Think about it Irma. And just look at Will, she can't handle this. And…and what's she going to do in a few years when she graduates from college? She's planning on being a vet…and what? She'll just come and live here?"

"I'm sure that Will can be a vet here." The tiny Asian girl piped up, only to have her optimism discarded completely.

"This relationship was cute for a teenaged thing, but come on guys…Will's going to be by his sickbed for the rest of her life."

"She loves him, and he loves her…and…" Finding that there was really no justification for this relationship, Irma paused mid-sentence to re-evaluate the options. Was love enough? Either way someone would be heartbroken…Will really wasn't meant for this side of battle. Cornelia, well Cornelia could handle this, admittedly, she thought with her head…Will…Will thought with her heart, only her heart. "They broke up once before over something like this…I…I figured that they worked it out somehow."

"Look, the fact is that Will is nineteen years old. She is not a child, and she knows what's best for her. She isn't a puppet and if she feels as though this relationship isn't good for her, then she'll leave. We don't need to discuss them." And with a regal toss of her silky blonde tresses, she stalked off to find Elyon.

"As much as I hate to admit it…Cornflake's right. Will can take care of herself."

Taranee didn't object, hesitant to be cast once again in the role of antagonist. But she did stare at the closed bedroom door for a long while, thinking about the three long days that Will had refused food and rest, just because she was convinced that he'd panic if he awoke to find her missing. She didn't know what was best for her; because her opinion was currently blurred by her emotions. She had no doubts in her mind that Will would do what Caleb asked, and if he wanted to be in Meridian, then that's where she'd be. She'd give up her dreams, her friends, her family, all for him.

It was just who she was.

……………………………

Will awoke after a mere four hours of sleep, although by the time that she deserted the comfort of the heavy silk covers of one of the castle beds, the moon was already halfway up in the sky.

She decided then that she would go to Caleb again…she'd slept enough, and she couldn't eat in any case…and he'd awaken soon, she knew it. And when he looked about for the first time in days, she wanted him to see a familiar face, and not the dark, ominous room. He'd fret over her she knew, he'd tell her to go to bed, tell her not to worry. And a small smile touched her lips as she considered it. He was always fretting over her, he was so blasted protective—she found it endearing.

He was other things too. He was kind—he always found the time for her and her often ridiculous stories of her day—and he was patient, he'd never pressured her into anything, regardless of how his eyes clouded over each time she refused to admit her feelings to him, he'd never forced her. And he loved her. He'd told her so years ago…and he'd repeated it nearly every time she'd been in his presence since.

And she—God how she wanted to love him back! But how could she? When she didn't even know what this love was supposed to feel like? She'd only been with one other person in all of her life…and a pre-pubescent fling hardly qualified as experience.

But he'd—she staggered against the rough stonewall to think. He'd almost died three days ago—he'd have gone to his grave believing that she never cared, that she didn't love him. But she did! More than she could voice, she'd given him her body without second guessing it. She'd relished in the way in which his hands caressed her, how his lips worshipped her—how his voice made her feel safe, and heavenly and…loved.

She did love him. She realized. She'd been in love with him for nearly all the time that she'd known him—and she'd been waiting for more. For what? For the heavens to rip apart and God himself to whisper it into her ear. She loved him! For everything! For making her feel as though his world revolved about her—for convincing her that she was perfect, for listening to her when she ranted for nearly an hour about the fact that her dorm mate always ate her food.

What more could she ask for? What else could she want?

With her heart filled to the point of overflowing, and her mind, soul and body alert, alive and excited, Will sprinted into the open hallway, casually ignoring the frustrated and then confused murmurs from the men posted outside her door. She had to tell him.

……………………………

When the physician awakened to find her again, rapping against her chamber door, head uncovered, mind you, he wasn't the least bit pleased. Nor did he feel particularly inspired to allow her back into his space, not when she'd all but humiliated in front of her majesty!

She, however, would have none of it. Persuading him with words rather than tears, and then finally when reasoning wouldn't work, she brushed him aside hurriedly and strode effortlessly towards the adjoining room.

Half of the palace guard was sent to look for her although; truly it wasn't a difficult task. There was only one place that she could be. And soon the poor doctor had another forty so men trampling all over his precious haven, dislodging his instruments and prodding at his potions. "Get out! Get out!" He seethed, for the most part going unnoticed.

Will had fallen to Caleb's side, brushing his disorderly hair with shaking hands before smiling assuredly at his restful face. He was beautiful when he slept, she thought. He wasn't nearly as hard or masculine, really, when he was like this she could imagine the small boy that he'd once been.

"Caleb." Her mouth was dry, her tongue heavy, and unaware of the growing audience behind her, she began the small monologue that she had planned. "I love you." And it was as though a heavy, tiresome burden had been taken off her chest, she smiled with blatant relief. "Did you hear me? I said I love you. Even though you're the single most infuriating, nerve wracking man that I've ever known…I…"

Breathing heavily, she watched, transfixed as his eyes began to flutter, and then slowly, remarkably came to settle on her face. She stared for a long while, unsure of what to do or say, and so she remained speechless until those hazy jade orbs settled on her mouth. "Will, it's late. What are you doing here?"

What else would he say? Swallowing back the sorrow, the fear and the relief, she grinned at him. "Kiss me." And she pressed her lips down hard against his, while outside the crowd began to shift uncomfortably in the darkness.

Jacobin, the head of this guard, (although he had sulked for an entire thirty minutes at being reduced to a mere babysitter) turned to the others with an evasive look on his face, "I think that she'll be all right here."

They all agreed, and in one solemn shadow they began the short trudge to the castle walls.

……………………………

**Author:** Well that's it. The end of Atonement. It began with Caleb realizing that he loved Will, so I thought it fitting that it should end with Will's realization. These stories are linked, although they aren't in any sort of real order. I don't really recall the exact order for all of them but I think that Nervous would be the first and Date would be the last. Written, I think is the only one that isn't related at all.

I guess that my favourite would be Breakfast or Life. I dunno. Some are better than others, but I do hope that you've enjoyed them all. There is one for each letter of the alphabet, kind of a reprieve for the atrocious second season.

**Disclaimer:** I disclaim any ownership of WITCH or any of its original characters.

Well, I hope you enjoy your Potter guys. I'm in Barbados for right now, and the book is coming out at 7 tonight Barbadian time, so I'll probably finish tomorrow night, or if it sucks like the last two, Sunday morning.

In any case, thank you for reading. And a review, even a two worded one, would be really, really nice. :)


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